Part Three
Boys, boys, boys. They made my head spin. A simple compliment and any dating tactics that I had heard of went out the window. It was like tipping a cow. Just a small push and I fell over into a puddle of bliss. They wanted me. So who was I to say no? Wouldn’t they like me even more if I gave them what they wanted? That seemed accurate. Wrong. Wrong. And wrong. But the first boy to escort me into what was to come had charm and convincing charisma that mirrored a politician. It was the start of my Sophomore year and I was 15. I met him at a party that another boy I liked was having while his parents were out town.
There was zero chance I would be allowed to go to the party but I went anyway. After staying way too late I was afraid to go home. So I didn’t. I always had this unexplainable need to live in the moment. Consequences were coming and I knew it, but I’d deal with that tomorrow. The moment was all that mattered. There he was, this adorable, much older boy who I had never met. He was talking to me like I was the most beautiful, desirable girl he had ever met. It was like watering a dying plant in the desert and I was helplessly inept at resisting his game. He seemed like a knight in shining armor to my adolescent ignorance. And so the night progressed. Though we did not have sex, I’ll spare you the details and just say we crossed some bases. I was new to this. I felt like I was proving how acceptable I was. I thought this was something that would make me standout. And it did...just not in the way I imagined. And so it began...
The next day the knight left in his big shiny truck. This was long before cell phones or social media so hearing from him was unlikely. I still had an innocent hope but he disappeared, not to return. I DID hear from a troupe of persecutors that were his girlfriend’s defenders. Apparently he was dating one of the most popular girls at my old school. She was also in 10th grade and though I wasn’t friends with her, I knew who she was. It became clear very quickly that even though I no longer attended her school and couldn’t possibly have had any knowledge of who she was dating, it was my responsibility to keep myself abreast of the comings and goings of the “In Crowd.” For this grave injustice, they deemed me a slutty, boyfriend stealing, homewrecker. The irony...I was still a virgin while many of these girls had kissed that title goodbye long ago.
Apparently this was not enough punishment for my unforgivable crimes. When the story was spread that I had lined all the males in the house that night up against a wall and performed oral sex on them one by one, it became gospel to anyone who had heard it. I can still remember the reactions: shock and disgust. But if I thought the boys wanted to hang out with me before, they were swarming now. My tormentors made certain that any and every boy at my old school was off limits. If I hung out with one who had hung out with another girl the weekend before, I was accused of trying to steal her man. If I had any physical contact with a boy, it became a tall tale that would make Paul Bunyan blush. Destroying me and any chance of having a respectable reputation was their mission, and they were relentless.
By the the Spring of my 10th grade year I was smoking pot, drinking, and in trouble with my parents all the time. My need to mask my sadness was unquenchable. And the twisted part was the attention from the opposite sex continued to feed me in a reckless way that I was powerless to stop. My defiant refusal to run off with my tail between my legs drove me onward. If a boy I liked gave me attention I rewarded him with my fervent favors. But even with my virginity remaining intact it only took one encounter in a car to forever brand me as “Backseat Becky.” The sad thing...the first time I heard it I was barely fazed. I was so used to clever nicknames and overly embellished ridicule that surprise never even occurred to me. But the night in the VW bus changed that.
He was so hot, like James Dean, Jim Morrison, Jerry Garcia and Ronnie Van Zant had been fused together. He came across deep and cool but elusive at the same time. He drove a Volkswagon Bus which added to his appeal. I was attracted to him like a mosquito to flesh. We also had something in common. We smoked a lot of pot and he was impressed with my ability to clear the chamber of a 2 foot bong like no girl anyone knew. I prided myself in that. I felt it was in some way an asset. And any asset that took focus away from the unwarranted rumors being spread about me was welcome.
One night not long after we met we were hanging out in his bus getting high. A unique characteristic of his vehicle was that it only had the 2 front seats, and he let people write all over the walls and roof of the empty back. There was self-expression everywhere you looked. While chilling in the back relishing all the comments and looking at the pictures, my eyes caught something right above the sliding door: “Backseat Becky Was Here.” It was like someone had doused me in water from the arctic ocean. I had never been in this bus. I had never as much as touched this boy. And yet those cruel words made a liar out of me. It was in that moment that I realized my ability to fill my lungs with toxic smoke had zero to do with why he was hanging out with me. He wanted me to authenticate the validity of his bus “art.” Now it was true. I was there. I left that night physically untouched and yet emotionally pierced in a way that my 16 years could not process.
Things at The School of The Arts were going well. I had flourishing friendships and was growing in my craft. I was dancing and acting and finding myself. When I was on stage no one could touch me. I got to be anyone but myself and those moments were valuable. But my life was fragmented. With my artsy friends I was fun, confidant, and uninhibited. I needed the persona I showed them to contradict what seemed like an inescapable rabbit hole of despair. No one knew that I was living a totally different existence once the school bell rang.
As far as I knew I maintained a few friends from the old school who still seemed to like me. One guy specifically. He was a senior. He lived down the street from me and we had known each other since early childhood. His Mom had just died suddenly at 35 years old. I remember the day we sat in his car out at the lakes where all the kids would party on the weekends. He cried his eyes out and I comforted him as best as my 16 years had prepared me too.
A few weeks later he mentioned he didn’t have a date to the Prom yet. Going to Prom as a Sophomore was a coveted experience and in my naivety I agreed to a “payout” for the honor. It didn’t occurred to me that a real friend would have never required me to agree to such a deal. I remember thinking that if I walked into the room with him on my arm that people would think I was more than “Backseat Becky.” What an unfortunate misconception.
My Mom was so proud that she lent him our Lincoln Town Car to take me in. I’ll never forget the doilies she placed on the dash board to “fancy up” our experience. She had no idea the struggles I was enduring. Her finding out was the worst thing I could have imagined. The shell that I presented on the outside had very little resemblance to what I looked like on the inside and I was determined to keep it that way.
From what I remember, prom was fun. We got our pictures taken, made the obligatory rounds, then headed to a party at a hotel at the beach. The time had come to pay up but I just didn’t want to do it. I thought if I explained to him why, he would be understanding. Dumb. He called me a tease and said that being a tease was worse than putting out. I left the hotel in tears. While sitting on the beach in my black sequin halter dress, a boy from my class who had not been at the prom came to comfort me. I had known him for many years. He was cute with beautiful clear blue eyes. He was charming, convincing, and to my shame I gave into his advances.
Would you believe he had a girlfriend too? Would you believe she was in the same group of girls as before?
The next week the “Mean Girls” were back and they came for me with a blood thirst that almost ended my existence.
More to come soon...Thank you for reading.