Throughout the course of my life, I’ve always liked the wrong kind of guys. Idiots, morons, tools, douchebags, assholes, jerks. You name it, and I’ve been drawn to it like a moth to an incredibly crappy flame. Most people assume that my awareness of this problem should also lead to a solution. They’d be wrong. I know that the guys are wrong for me in every way, but the problem is that I don’t realize they’re like all the others until it’s too late. Taylor Hanson is no exception. He’s a self-absorbed prick who thinks he’s god’s gift to the world. The problem is that he’s right.
He’s gorgeous, smart, talented, and completely fucked up in the way that can make a person so endearing. We’re fucked up together in our own special ways. I fell for Taylor the first day I met him. That was two years ago, and he still has no clue. The day I crossed into the friend zone was the day I passed out of his radar. He pulls me in and pushes me away, breaks my heart with every ill-placed remark, but he’s completely oblivious. Of course, I’ve never directly told anyone about my feelings for Taylor and would never dream of it.
Remember how I said that I’m fucked up, too? I’d rather rot in hell than let anyone know when I’m hurting. I guess it’s because I’ve been hurting for so long that I’ve developed a wide expanse of defense mechanisms like swearing, drinking, sex, sarcasm and the like, or at least that’s what my shrink used to tell me. Dad made me go to a shrink for awhile after I found Mom dead in the bathtub eight years ago. We’d been hanging out together all day long, doing family things like having a picnic lunch in the park and riding bikes along the bike path and when we got home Mom said she wanted to take a bubble bath. Once Dad had dinner made, he asked me to go upstairs to get her, teasing me about how long she always took in the bathroom. When I got upstairs, the worst moments of my life began, the moments that I relive even now. To this day I can’t touch a razor. I should invest in Nair stock. I’m sure that my purchases have helped it along.
It’s just been me and Dad ever since that day when my mom gave up. On what I’m not sure, and I guess I never will. There was no note, nothing but a bathtub full of lavender-scented bubbles and AB blood. I don’t mean to sound insensitive to the situation. This is just part of my reality. This is what I deal with every day in the back of my mind. No one at college knows about my mom. They know she’s dead, but they don’t know how. They don’t need to.
Taylor’s dad died when he was seven. Maybe that’s part of the reason why we get along in our own special and dysfunctional way. It’s probably more that I allow him to treat me like shit, something he seems to think he needs to do to show affection towards others. I tell him it’s just because he never reached puberty when boys usually learn that it’s okay to not be a total pain in the ass all the time. To that he calls me a spoiled little rich girl. I’m not and he knows it, but he calls me that nonetheless just because my dad tends to buy me whatever I want whenever I want it. I know it’s his way of coping, trying to make sure that I have everything I need to make myself happy. I really can’t blame him. The thought of losing me too is probably what fuels him along.
I’m in my sophomore year of college now at the University of Iowa majoring in either film or theater, I can’t decide which. I just keep taking Gen Eds, apparently hoping that the answer will appear to me in a vision or something. Choosing a major is a lot harder than they tell you it will be. I live with two roommates, Sophie and Grace. We all lived on the same floor last year and became friends. Grace is mouthy like me but has a far bigger attitude and Sophie hides her sassiness behind an innocent looking smile. They both hate Taylor and are continually frustrated with me for spending so much time with him. I know that they’re just looking out for me, but sometimes I really wish that they’d give it a rest with the constant bitching about how obnoxious he is. Taylor’s a music major. Did I mention that in addition to being both gorgeous and a grade-A bastard, he’s also one of the most phenomenal singers I’ve ever heard? The boy has perfection oozing out of every pore of his body and he’s all too aware.
I have more friends and usually hang out with Taylor and his roommates Jackson and Chris more than my own. I’ve always been one of the guys… until they realize that I’m a girl with some damn fine assets (if I do say so myself). Chris and Jackson have noticed and Taylor has yet to see that I am in fact of the female gender. It’s not that I’m a tomboy, it’s just that my aggressive attitude can delay the effects a bit. It’s fine though. I get plenty of action regardless, just not necessarily from the one person I want to finally see everything there is to see.
My life is what it is, delightfully messed up in every way possible. But hey, it’s all I have.