Who The F*** Is Jess Melancholia?: High School Part 1

Ready. Set. Sail!

Why hello again. We have to stop meeting like this. Really.

So is everybody ready for another edition of my life story? You bet your silly socks you are! This one is a cute love story about how I met my husband that I’m going to break down into a few parts because I love it so much. It’s a long one so grab a nice glass of Scotch and stay for a while.

Let’s continue onward with high school. For those of you who need a refresher here is the first post and the second one. Sigh. Let’s get through this as painlessly as possible. I’ll gloss over a lot because I’ve pretty much blocked out most of the humiliation and embarrassment.

One of the biggest problems I had growing up was being timid. I was WAY too shy to survive in the real world. I’m surprised I got anything done let alone had any friends. I was the typical nerdy sad little girl that cried at the drop of a hat. Combine that with horribly strict parents and no social skills and you get utter high school hell!

For the most part, I fit in with my teachers. I was the definitive teachers pet. Great grades and well-mannered. A fucking brown-nosing goodie-two-shoes. I was the little brat who would remind the teacher that we had a quiz that day. Yup. What a little bitch! Lame. I learned my lesson later on don’t worry!

Overall, I was the definition of the good little Christian girl at the tiny little Christian high school. I volunteered at church on Sundays in the nursery and occasionally taught Bible lessons to the 3-5 year-olds. I’d pray more than any human being alive should. All day and late into the night. My parents owned a Christian bookstore and I’d listen religiously to all the newest Christian artists. Literally. A lot of that music is STILL ingrained into my skull. Lyrics and all. Sometimes I listen to some of the songs for the sake of nostalgia.

My self-esteem was based on God and God alone. Boys would never cross my mind. In fact, I wasn’t allowed to date. You heard me! Dating was something slutty girls did. What my parents strictly enforced was courtship. It’s the idea where you hang out in a large group of people with the person you intended to become close friends with. This way you aren’t tempted to do anything about your raging teenage hormones. Believe me when I say it’s just as lame and annoying as it sounds. But it’s what a good teenage Christian girl did. And I’d look down my self-righteous nose down at those “sinners” who engaged in PDA and dating. I’d do my best to educate them on their immoral ways and try to lead them back down the path to Christ.

No I’m not fucking joking. Bet you’re surprised huh? It’s kinda amazing what a decade can do to change a person. Stay tuned for the college edition. Fuck! That’s when I get slapped hard in the face with what the real world looked like.

So yeah. When I was a teenage girl, ALL I cared about was my relationship with Jesus. Boys NEVER EVER crossed my mind. Although I did have a problem with chronic masturbation. It was overwhelming. I needed it a few times a day every day. For years! And you bet I cried and chastised myself after every time. Crying and blaming myself for my sinful urges. Praying fervently to God for forgiveness. God life was awful.

That was until I turned 16.

My now-husbandΒ (it was Buttface right? Let’s call him that again :-D!!!) had spent the remainder of his 2nd grade to middle school years being home-schooled so there wasn’t anyone I was concerned with before he reappeared and made his way into my life. Which is good because his racially-charged violent pushing me on the playground was enough for me!! Blonde hair hazel-eyed boy pushing a tiny little half-black girl with frizzy hair down onto the sand. Jerk! Typical white dude.


…here is a fun story for everyone:

High school was OK. I had a BFF who sadly is no longer in my life but she was the dearest thing to my heart. Let’s call her Marcy. Marcy and I would go shopping for hours at a time. We had a tradition of once every few weeks going shopping at the mall and eating at the local pizzeria before we started our adventures. She was an amazingly kind person. I loved her to death. I still do. Unfortunately for me, bipolar doesn’t have a reset button. I fucked up and I miss her terribly. But that’s a story for another day.

Meanwhile, I was also fantastic friends with my sister-in-law. We hung out and played basketball on the playground during lunch. We were good friends. I remember so well the day I was reintroduced to Buttface.

It was sunny hot day when we were called back into class from lunch. My sister-in-law and I were laughing and joking about the invigorating basketball game we just finished when I look over and I see him. I remember it so vividly. My heart skipped a beat for the first time ever. There he was: arms folded staring off into the distance. He was wearing a grayish green T-shirt 3 sizes too big for his scrawny body. Ratty old jeans. Plain black sneakers; his favorite.

My sister-in-law called out to him, “Hey Stick!”

She and I giggled while he slowly turned in our direction, shook his head, and resumed his stone-like position. He was going to transfer from home school that year to our tiny high school. There was something about him but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

From the moment he transferred, Buttface was a complete and utter asshole. My studies consumed all my time and effort. But this guy ruined it for me. Not only was he smarter than me, but he constantly liked to rub it in my face. Even something as small as 2% higher score on a test was enough to enrage me.

God I wanted to punch him in his smug face. And this went on for at least a year. Constant competition to be the best student.

Among the small number of students in my school, there were few extracurricular activities. I chose Art because I was good at it. The only problem with Art was me and Buttface were in the same class. Furthermore, we were the ONLY students in that class! It was small enough that we were banished to the library. Little did I know that little 1.5 story library was going to change my life forever.

Overall, Art was fun. Despite Buttface being annoying, he and I seemed to get along well in class. I remember talking about when I graduated I’d go into graphic design and eventually be a famous artist. He didn’t seem to care much because he was planning on going out of state for college. Not like I cared but it would mean I only had a limited time to be around this guy.

One extremely hot autumn day, the school decided to order a bunch of ice cream sandwiches. They were going to sell them in the kitchen for 50 cents a pop. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have any money. So while Marcy and my friends were going to grab some tasty treats, I was stuck to burn in the sweltering heat. She tried to comfort me and said she could ask her mom to stop by with some change after school so she could get me one. I knew why I was best friends with her!

However, Buttface had overheard the conversation. He proceeded to finish his ice cream sandwich and head over to the kitchen. On my way to the restroom, I was stopped by him. I looked up with a look of concern on my face. A smirk came across his face as he looked me directly in the eyes and said, “Here. I noticed you didn’t get one. Enjoy.”

He handed over the ice cream bar and I froze dead in my tracks. What the hell was this about? Why would he buy me anything? My mind raced as I took a minute to catch my breath. What a jerk! I’ll eat it and I’ll like it but I’m not paying him back. That’s his loss.

Marcy took notice and gave me a sly look, “Oh my God! Did he just buy you that?!”

“Yeah I don’t know what the heck is his problem. I’m not paying him back if that’s what he thinks” I responded.

“I think he likes you. Why else would he do it? It doesn’t look like he bought any for his friends” Marcy said.

“What?!?! No! He hates me. He is probably trying to throw me off of my studies.”

“Well OK. If you think so.”

From then on I analyzed his every movement. The ice cream incident really threw me off and I was determined to figure out what he was up to.

One day, we took a field trip to the ceramic cafe. For those of you who don’t know, it’s a place that sells premade pottery that you can buy and use their special ceramic-friendly paint to decorate. I remember picking a dolphin and Buttface picked a dragon. What teenage boy isn’t into dragons?

After a few hours of decorating, we headed back to school. Buttface complimented me on how well my dolphin looked and I responded with how cool his dragon looked. Getting back into the car, he sat up front next to the teacher and I sat in the backseat diagonal to him. After getting settled, the teacher remembered she had left something in the cafe and told us that she would be right back. After she left, I proceeded to tell Buttface how dumb his dragon actually was. Stupid black and green colors. Lame.

“You take that back!” Buttface retorted.

“Yeah no. It’s so freakin lame. Nobody likes dragons and yours sucks” I said.

“You better take it back or else.”

“Or else what?”

“I’ll tickle it out of you.”

“What?! Yeah right!” I said. Something in me at that moment told me to push it. With a cute smile on my face and a glimmer in my eyes I pushed and said, “I dare you.”

He hesitated knowing I caught his bluff. Still staring intently into each others eyes, he darted back and clasped his hand around the back of the chair right when our teacher made it back to the car. The look on her face was enough to retract him back to his seat.

From that moment on, I couldn’t breathe when I was around him. Every move he made drove me crazy. The way his jacket clung to his chest showing off his small but muscular physique. The way he sat. The way he walked. The way he looked at me. God I couldn’t take it. So I sat in my room and wrote everything in my diary. How much I fantasized about being close to him. Holding me. I still have the diary to this day. Maybe I’ll post some entries in the next coming days.

In any case, there was no way I’d ever be allowed to date him. My parents would never approve and I suddenly hated the idea of courtship. My performance in our high school talent show had prompted one of the boys to come up to me after the show and tell me I looked cute in my dress. My dad overheard and nearly popped a blood vessel.

I told Marcy all about Buttface at the ceramic cafe. She laughed and said she and everyone in the school could tell that we were in love. That you could see it in the tension whenever we were in the same room together. I told her I didn’t know what to do and I’ve been debating on telling him how I felt. She was encouraging but at a loss. She knew that if I got rejected it would tear me to pieces and I’d still have to deal with taking Art class alone with him. I told her I would wait until some time after spring break.

All throughout those early spring months, my heart was aching. I needed to tell him. I had to tell him. How could I get it out?

One day during Apologetics, his phone buzzed. We all laughed at him in class saying that he should turn his phone off. His best friend leans in to him and says, “Is that Meghan again?”

Meghan?!? Who the fuck was Meghan. My heart began racing.

“Yeah it’s her” Buttface replied.

Another one of his friends interjected, “Is that your girlfriend?”

“Yeah. We just started going out a month ago.”

My. Heart. Shattered. Marcy glanced over at me with a worried look on her face. I raised my hand and asked to use the restroom. The teacher nodded and I ran out of the class and into one of the stalls. My eyes burning with tears. I sat in there the rest of class sobbing into my hands…


…to be continued.



16 thoughts on “Who The F*** Is Jess Melancholia?: High School Part 1

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