For the Record

By Stepy Kamei

Posted on

Everyone likes to think they have a great sob story, but few of us do.

Can you imagine the look in a mother’s eyes as they glaze over when her daughter says to her, heart pounding out of her chest, “Mom, Dad hits me. Can you make him stop?”

Can you imagine how painful silence can be?

What if that girl grows up? What kinds of partners does she end up with? Can you imagine pouring your soul out to a man about how your daddy would come into your room at night and do unspeakable things to you, only to hear from him a few weeks down the line, “You know, I should be hitting you. But because I love you, I won’t.” Or if that same man begins to sense you gaining some courage and pulling away, so he makes up an elaborate story about a former girlfriend of his who died in a car accident? Only – he tampered with her brakes, and caused that accident, because she was threatening to leave him and now you know what he’s saying is that if you try to leave he may just do the same to you, so you better get your brakes checked? This story turns out to be a lie, of course, you realize this as you gain sanity and clarity months after leaving him – but at that twisted, convoluted time, you didn’t know that. You believed he would kill you, just like you believed your dad would.

But perhaps the worst of all is the false hope. The quiet sparrow alighting on your thin shoulder, chirping a gentle song of light and encouragement, only to turn into a screeching black crow who clenches his talons into your bones and skin before flying off into the night, cackling to itself, at you. This comes in the form of meeting a boy who sticks with you even as you push him away, over and over again, because love doesn’t make sense to you. You tell him you hate his guts, you tell him you want to be left alone, but he sees past all of that and stays by your side. He says you’re beautiful and special and the most important thing in his life, and you eventually begin to believe him. For the first time in your life, you have a man you can refer to as your boyfriend. Finally, you’re not a secret sidepiece or a rag doll to be used and tossed aside. Finally, at 22, you are a normal woman.

Then one day, he stops responding to your texts. He offers no explanation, but eventually comes back, until he vanishes again. Over the next month or so, he vacillates between the loving loyal lap dog and an infamous disappearing act. You should clap at such a marvelous performance, but your hands are bound in chains.

In the midst of this, your grandma is dying, and your boyfriend is nowhere to be found. He doesn’t care that your favorite person is dying a slow and painful death in a sad, small hospital bed with no dignity. No, you see, he already got what he wanted from you. She dies, and you call him, leaving messages in as composed a tone as you can muster: “Hey baby, my grandma died today (pause to choke back a sob). Can you call me? I’d just like to hear your voice. Just for a few minutes, if that’s not too much trouble. Thank you. Bye.” You know that men often view you as trouble, as a burden, so you always try to be polite when asking for the favor of being shown affection.

Your phone lights up hours later and your heart soars. You pick up and he sounds distracted and distant. “I’m sorry,” he states flatly. You ask if he can videochat. He sighs, bothered by your girlish emotions, and thinks for a moment. “Yeah I can get on in about an hour. But I’ll only be able to talk for about ten minutes, ok?” You are worth ten minutes of time. You take it thankfully.

You sign on and wait for an hour. Another hour later, he’s online, but he’s not calling you. Your phone sits by your side in case that would be a more convenient method of communication for him. You would bend over backwards to not inconvenience the men in your life. He texts you this:

“Hey, I’m too tired to talk to you about this right now. Also, it’s not working out. Take care.”

You were too clingy, didn’t you see that? You expected too much of him, and the only good thing you’re worth is sex because you have a great body, you should have already seen this coming, really. The timing sucks but it’s what you deserve. You stupid fucking bitch. Your dad was right, your dad was right.

A year later, what has changed? You’re still single. All your friends have boyfriends now, and you must put a smile on your face as they get that far away look in their eye and tell you all about Sam or Taylor or Steven, and how wonderful they are and how much they love him and isn’t life just beautiful, Stepy? Isn’t it the greatest thing? Let me tell you more about how easy life has been for me.

You smile and spew out robotic answers. “I’m so happy for you.” “Aw, that’s so sweet.” “Yes, he really is handsome.” 

“No, I understand, you want to spend all the time you can with him. We’ll hang out next weekend.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m already at the restaurant but it’s ok, you lost track of time because you’ve been in bed with Brandon all day. That’s alright! I’ll order some salmon skin roll and just take it home and eat it there, haha. Yes, we can reschedule for another time. You don’t know when you’re free? Ok, that’s fine. Yes, we’ll talk soon.”

You sit in a crowded café on a Saturday night, off to the side of your friend Paula and her new boyfriend. There’s a pretty indie musician on the small stage in front of you, and she lightly sings a romantic melody. Your friend snuggles up to her boyfriend and squishes his cheeks together. “You’re so handsome,” she coos. The boyfriend turns his eyes to you for a moment. “See what I have to put up with?” he asks with mock annoyance. You force a lethargic laugh and turn away and swallow that goddamn lump in your throat over and over until it’s suppressed enough that you can hold on until you’re alone and then you can burst into sobs that make your body convulse like it’s receiving a million electric shocks. You manage to catch the gaze of an older man a few tables away. He gives you the briefest of pitying looks before his beautiful blonde girlfriend cozies up to his neck and kisses him and gazes up at him with that special look you don’t know about. He lifts her chin up delicately and kisses her lips so softly you could collapse on the floor right then and there.

Most people are the Paulas of the world, or the beautiful blonde girlfriends safe in their boyfriend’s arms. A handful of us are what remains, the outcasts.

I guess hope is the slave master of us all. It promises us freedom, one distant day from now, as we sit in quiet caves and try our best to ignore the chafing skin underneath our shackles.

*

Is there even room for us? Shouldn’t we step aside (you know what I mean by this)? No, because suicide is not the answer, here’s a hotline you can call, if you feel like picking up the phone. I don’t know you personally and I don’t really care to talk to you about why you shouldn’t swallow all your Advil. In fact, I don’t really know why you shouldn’t kill yourself. I just know it’s bad and wrong. Sorry you’re feeling this way! You should call this toll-free number. They can probably help.

I’ll tell you what you should do. You really need to stay alive and get through life. Because, see, it’s really not as bad as you make it out to be. You’re just a whiner, a complainer, and you’re very weak, really. If you’re sad about not having a boyfriend, you should really just put yourself out there more. It’ll happen when you least expect it, but you shouldn’t be too picky. You should wear more makeup too. But not too much, because you don’t want him to feel betrayed the first time he sees you without makeup. Don’t be a lying little whore. If you’re sad or depressed about other things in life, just don’t be! There’s plenty to smile about. Go for a walk or read a book. A nice bath will make all your troubles float away, and then you’ll forget why you were even sad in the first place. Trust me – I know what pain is. That’s why I’m giving you such wonderful advice!

I’ve been abused too. You’re not the only one. One time, I got yelled at by my father. I’m a stronger person for it. Well, yeah, I still talk to my father, why wouldn’t I? It’s not like he hit me or anything, jeez! Quit being so dramatic.

I’ve had tough times in love as well. You’re not the only one. You know, one time, my boyfriend of eight months broke up with me because he couldn’t handle a long-distance relationship. That was really hard. That’s more painful than anything anyone else could have possibly experienced. It was the hardest time of my life. Then, I got a new boyfriend a few months later. Now I’m ok. You just need to do that! It’s not hard. It’s not hard, why are you making a mountain out of a molehill?

Ok, well, I’m kind of tired of giving you advice. You have issues, and I don’t know what to do with you.

Take care.

– Stepy Kamei