You Wreck Me

I’ll be the boy – in the corduroy pants – you’ll be the girl – at the high school dance…

Thanks Tom. I’ll be your girl at the high school dance anytime. Although, truth be told, my memories of the high school dance are not fond. I was the girl standing in the shadows, waiting in vain for someone, anyone, to ask me out onto the floor. It didn’t take long to realize that the boys in the corduroy pants were never going to ask me to dance. They didn't even see me; well, not until I lost 30 pounds using a combination of speed and cigarettes. That caught their attention, but by then it was too late. I was way too cool for the boys at the school dance. I had discovered the bad boys in the parking lot with their ditch weed and their back seats. Their standards were lower.

I got older, tougher, more reckless, I learned to pick up the signals, how to make the first move, when to walk away. But, that vulnerable little girl with her back pressed to the wall still lies just below the surface. When one of the cool kids freezes me out, it still hurts. It shouldn’t, but it does. It wrecks me baby; it breaks me in two.