After reading this, I've decided it's time.
It's time to write the blog post I have been putting off for years. Because no one wants to read this. Go ahead, stop reading. But I have to do it and I have to do it now. It's not a big deal, or anything terrible. But I need to do it for...let's say therapy.
My freshman year of college I lied a lot to fit in, which is a good explanation of why it was so hard for me to make friends.
Here, I thought, here I can tell people I have had boyfriends, because everyone cares about boyfriends. Of course I'd never had a boyfriend. Or a date.
In high school, I was one of those girls who never got asked to a dance. At fourteen I just asked guys myself. One dance, I took my friend Dan and he spent the night looking forlornly at other girls and being disinterested, and I realized he didn't want to be there with me, which blew my fucking mind because I thought I was awesome.
Three years later Steve called me an hour before prom to bail and buy drugs. I was murderous. I asked him because my 'best friend' Jon - who I spent years blocking from my memory, who had my undying puppy love, who could ask anything of me, who had to have known how much craved him - he told me - and I hate talking about this - he told me he wouldn't go with me because, and I quote, "Well, Rass, you won't impress anyone. I need to go with...I need to go with a woman."
Anyway, so when people asked freshman Rassles about high school, I told them I just broke up with someone. It felt true enough. I also told them things like, "Well, of course, I could have had sex, but I just haven't found the right guy" which is what all virgins say, but it wasn't true. No one ever tried.
I didn't drink my freshman year of college because I thought it was stupid and I had important shit to study so I could be a veterinarian. Making friends was hard, so I would go to parties by myself and try to meet people.
But people, especially boys, will not talk to sober 18 year old girls.
Sometimes I would just go to a party and buy a solo cup and pretend I had beer. I wanted to fit in so badly. I tried very hard to pretend to listen to the music everyone seemed to be obsessed with. I become a Dave Matthews Band fan, an Aerosmith fan, a Jimmy Buffet fan. I really, really tried. I lied and said my dad took me to a Jimmy Buffet concert once. My dad doesn't give a shit about Jimmy Buffet.
But I learned, slowly, that my classmates didn't trust me. Not because I lied about going to a Jimmy Buffet concert (seriously, what?) but because I didn't get fucked up.
The few friends I made were wary to invite me to parties and usually were ashamed of me when we got there, but I never understood why. I spent a lot of time saying, "No, go on, I'll be fine."
Absolutely no one trusted me when I tried to take care of the hammered girls throwing up all over the bathroom, passing out on toilets while their friends took all of the incorrect steps on dealing with a girl on the verge of alcohol poisoning. They would get angry at me for helping, tell me I was self-righteous, that they could see how I despised them and they would hoist up their tube tops and stumble in their heels, banging their knees on doorframes, wild-eyed and whammered. I tried to nurse of a lot of girls I didn't know.
Then one day in January, I got those looks and exploded. Crying. Yelling, "YOU KNOW WHY I DON'T GET DRUNK?" I told them that when I was fourteen I went to a college party, blacked out, woke up in a strange house and vowed never to drink again.
Of course, that never happened.
But it was magic. I had respect. People approached me at parties. A lot of, "You know, I thought you just were like weird, you know, I didn't know you been there. I knew there was something about you. I could tell there was a bigger story, I could tell you were cool, I knew there was a reason, I'm so sorry you went through that..."
I never even insinuated - I mean, later I learned - and by later, I mean in 2011 - apparently this story morphed into "Rassles got drunk and was raped when she was fourteen." Which is annoying, but I guess kind of predictable. Only one person ever asked me that many details, and I told her I didn't remember.
But people seemed to genuinely care about me. Only after they thought I was special. I really resented a lot of them for it.
Then I came clean to a couple friends years later, and they were all like, "so what? who fucking cares if you lied when you were 18? We were all assholes" which was awesome.
Sometimes I think that lie was the worst decision I ever made. Because of that I lie, I pledged a sorority. Because of that sorority, I didn't transfer schools, I stopped wanting to be a doctor, I started drinking and smoking cigarettes and turned into a general asshole. But I loved every terrible, mood-swinging minute of it.
During pledging, we had to run. A lot. And on the first day of running I fell, and a swarm of sorority banshees surrounded me, heckling (Were you born a fat, slimy, scumbag puke piece o' shit, Private Pyle, or did you have to work on it?) and I was pissed, I couldn't fucking believe the garbage they were screaming (I will gouge out your eyeballs and skull-fuck you!) who the ruddy fuck do these ogre harpies think they are, they can go fuck a fencepost for all I care, these (you had best square your ass away and start shitting me Tiffany cufflinks or I will definitely fuck you up) bone-faced cumdumpsters, I hate them, I hate them...and I yelled that my knee, my knee, oh, my knee...I don't have any cartilage in my knee, I can't run anymore, which shut them up real fucking quick, but was also a lie.
They never even let me try to run after that, whenever I asked, probably because they were afraid I would get seriously hurt, and then the school would kick them out for hazing. But I felt guilty, I was terrified of not fitting in, I watched my pledgemates run and stumble and endure, I berated myself to sleep and swore that for the next five weeks I would do everything perfectly, that I would help everyone however I could, that I would come clean...
That's the problem with lies. People are so darn nice about them. They're so understanding, so worried, so genuine.
I never did tell them the truth. This sorority booted liars. They kicked two of them out of my pledge class. But they would have kicked me out, I have no doubt. They had no patience for people who couldn't cut it. None. So I just let it go.
Oh, it feels nice getting all of these twelve year old lies on the internet.