we shared a shrink.  she and i really barely knew each other, but she was everyone i’d ever had a crush on.  she was a tiny little brown haired beauty with out of proportion boobs and she was so fucking smart it hurt.  i’m not usually a fan but she wore black tights.  i know, i know, it’s like a porn story or something.  we did it in the park once.  only once.  she was with someone else 2 or more like a half day later, and was completely genuine in her confusion about why that would hurt my feelings.  girls like her were the bane of my existence back then.  i always fell in love with ‘em and they were only stretching their legs.

IE of A——— being so smart:  we had Statitistics together.  the whole class led up to a formula that ran clear across the black board and you had the whole 90 mins to finish the thing.  She told the teacher a way to do it that was way shorter and more efficient.  the teacher was flustered but listened to what A said and then she did some work on her calculator and on paper and then she told the class that A’s way would work too but she had to teach it the way it was in the book.  A did it in her head while she was listening to the teacher.  i don’t know if that was clear enough or not but A was so fucking smart it hurt.

of course the shrink wouldn’t even listen to me talk about her.  about 18 months later (yeah, psychotherapy is the biggest hand job you’ll ever give yourself, ie: 18 months later i was still seeing the same shrink and still having meaningful sex with strangers.) i absently asked him why he thought she killed herself.  and he told me.

she fell in love with a guy who dumped her after the night in the park in her black tights (i embellished the part about her still wearing the tights.  she really wore ‘em the night with me but how in the hell would i know if she did with that fucking creep.  in all likelihood she changed hosiery with the same frequency she changed lovers, ie: all the fucking time).  she fell in love with him and stalked him for a couple days and he wasn’t having it and she was kind of clinically insane.  she bought a fucking shotgun, (A always meant business, like in how she told me to bring the blanket that was in the back of my Mercury when we wandered past the swingset) and locked herself in a motel room and blew her brains out.  she gave it as much thought as she might have given a bj to a guy who was making those same old noises about how perfect she was.  (maybe this will make him see how slutty i am and he’ll go away)

and then Elvis Costello wrote a song with her name on it and winona ryder copied her look so i’d see her every time i went to the movies and i went so deep into my self that i almost never got out.

that’s a true story of what i did that summer.  she didn’t pull the trigger until winter, when i was in love with someone else and wanting her to be Allison.

and i was still seeing Dr. E.  and from time to time wondering if he could stick a shotgun as far down his kneck as she likely did.

yeah, i’m going straight to hell for that one.