Hey there everyone,
I know it’s been a while since my last blog, and I apologize for being M.I.A. I was out of commission for most of July with some kind of flu or virus that got worse after being put on medication. But I’m back, and I’m ready to get back into it.
If you learned anything about me through my blogs, or my Facebook, or even by actually knowing me, you know I’m pretty open and honest about everything, even if it makes me look bad. But one thing I’m sure most people don’t know about me is, once upon a time, I had a girlfriend. And once upon a time, I was arrested because of her.
But let me not get ahead of myself. Instead, let me take you back to the early 1990’s…
When I was in high school, I was not very popular. I had a couple of friends, but for the most part, I was more into my studies than being popular. It probably had something to do with the fact that most people thought I was Gay. And being Gay in a Yeshiva back in the 90’s (or anytime actually) was just not acceptable. So I stayed mostly to myself, and when I wasn’t in class, you probably would find me in the Student’s Lounge (I think that’s what it was called) hanging out on the couches.
Junior year, I met this girl. She was a sophomore, and hung out in the lounge. She would sit with me and we’d talk. After a while, we started to hang out outside of school, which made my mother very happy. She actually encouraged me to go out with this girl because it would stop all the Gay talk, and against my better judgment, we started dating.
I could tell you about our first kiss, or how far we actually went, but that really is irrelevant to the story. She was very clingy and needed to know where I was at all times. This was a time before cell phones (quite a scary thought, I know), and I had my own phone line in my room. She would call several times and leave me multiple messages on my answering machine (remember those?), and when that didn’t work, she would call my brother’s line to find me. She would call my best friend, and even my mother, if she couldn’t get in touch with me. After a while, it became much, and no matter how much I tried or how much my mother wanted us to stay together, I couldn’t escape the feeling that this wasn’t working. And that summer, I had had enough, and I broke up with her.
If you ask her, and she said this publicly, I broke up with her because Dylan and Brenda broke up on Beverly Hills, 90210 (just in case I haven’t aged myself yet), but for me, it was more about something not seeming right with her. Only then, I had no idea how crazy things were about to get. And all I can say is it all made for a very interesting senior year of high school.
When summer ended and we went back to school, my ex would tell everyone and anyone her 90210 scenario, but funny enough, when Brenda and Dylan got back together, she and I didn’t. And her clinginess turned into obsession… and just a wee bit insane.
One of the most important days in the Jewish calendar is Yom Kippur, or the Day of Atonement. It usually takes place in September/October, and is a day of reflection and asking G-d for forgiveness for the past year’s sins. There are a few rules that we follow on that day: no eating or drinking, no bathing, no relations of any kind, and we spend most of the holiday praying at Synagogue. Like I said, it’s a day of reflection and repentance.
Well that year, my ex called my mother, and came up with this sob story that she was supposed to spend the holiday with a friend, and now couldn’t go there. She managed to get herself invited to my home for Kippur. She was supposed to stay in my sister’s room, but in the middle of the night, she decided she was going to sneak into my room (which at this point, I shared with my baby brother), and get into my bed. I totally wasn’t having any of it for several reasons, two of them being we weren’t a couple, and it was Yom Kippur. I don’t remember much of the conversation she and I had, but I do remember my father coming into the room and talking with us.
The next night (the holiday lasts 25 hours), we were going to my grandmother’s house to break the fast, and I remember my ex talking to me about one of the prayers we say. In it, it breaks down all the sins that we can commit, and she turned around to me and started talking about how one of the things we repent for is raping someone. She asked me if I had said that part and when I asked her who I supposedly raped, she gave me this smirk. Let me be clear that at no time did she and I ever sleep together, so there’s no way humanly possible for any kind of rape to have happened. But here she was, walking into my families home, and insinuating something happened that never did. After that night, I decided to avoid her like the plague, because she wasn’t all there.
Back in school, I started hanging out with this other girl. Well my ex decided that that wasn’t OK with her, and she enlisted my one time best friend to call this girl up and threaten her if she hung out with me. Needless to say, the girl listened, and nothing came of she and I. My ex would insinuate herself into situations I was in or places that I was going, and it was becoming very awkward to say the least. And remember this was my senior year of high school, so people were talking.
Things got out of control around New Years. It began with an 8 or 9 page letter she wrote to me asking me to sleep with her, because she knew if we did, we’d get back together. She even offered to wear a bag over her head so that I didn’t have to see her. As tempting as the offer was, I declined, and she did not take that well. I was invited to a New Year’s party at a friend’s house, and was told my ex wouldn’t be there. So I agreed to attend, and I was going to bring my brother, cousin and best friend with me. At that point I was driving, so I could take everyone.
The night of the party, my friend called me and said that my ex would be going to the party, and she wanted me to give her a lift. At that point I was fed up, and said the only way she was getting a lift was if she was in the trunk. I also decided that I was going to attend the party for a little while and then leave, as to avoid her. Well that plan didn’t quite work out the way I had hoped.
I arrived at the party and she wasn’t there yet. I said hi to everyone just as she walked in and proceeded to sit on my best friend’s lap and flirt shamelessly with him. I decided that this just wasn’t for me, and decided to leave. I literally was in the house about five minutes. I walked out to go to the car, and my ex followed me out and started screaming in my face. She was a tad wasted, and I honestly couldn’t tell you what she was saying, but the next thing I knew, she had jumped on my back and started to choke me so I wouldn’t leave. The entire party was outside to witness the insanity. All I did was bend to the side and she literally slid right off of me. I got in my car and went to the party my parents were at. I told my parents what happened, and my father decided we should go back and see if she was ok. We did, and she was fine. That was how I spent New Year’s Eve that year.
When I got back to school the following week, my ex wasn’t there. In fact, she didn’t come to school the entire month of January, and the rumors ran rampant. It was beyond ridiculous what was being said. My favorite rumor was that I had beaten her up, threw her in the back seat of my car, raped her, got her pregnant, gave her an abortion with a metal hanger and then threw her out of the car and left… all in the same night. Unfortunately, people are stupid and believe just about anything. And I went from being unpopular to infamous in less than a month.
I also started receiving prank calls, and messages on my answering machine threatening me. One call went as far as to say they knew I was Jewish and they were going to kill me. My parents got the police involved and had the calls traced, only to find out that it was my best friend making the calls. Apparently, he and my ex were in cahoots. Needless to say, he was no longer my best friend after that came to light. I actually don’t think I ever spoke to him again.
The first of February came along, and my ex returned to school with a white cast on her left arm. She was claiming I beat her up and gave her a concussion and broke her arm. The following week, she came to school with a green cast on her right arm. I had to laugh at the whole thing because none of it was true, and people were eating her story up. But things were just about to get interesting for me.
On Valentine’s Day of that year, my parents received a phone call from the local police that I was placed under house arrest for assault and battery. I wasn’t allowed to leave the state, and I had to get a lawyer because my ex was taking me to court. The charges were bogus, and we later found out that her family was trying to open up a business and needed capital, so they figured they’d get it from me.
Over the next few months, I met with a lawyer, whose name I can’t remember, but looked like Chuck Norris. He told me it would be in my best interest to lose some weight to look like I couldn’t hurt a fly. I followed orders. I went to court and gave my deposition in the case. We supplied the judge with the letter she wrote me, and a list of witnesses. I can even remember to this day what I wore to court. The witnesses all gave their depositions, and funny enough, nobody corroborated her story. My ex however, never showed up for her day in court to give her deposition. She also never supplied her medical records.
Meanwhile, back in school, my newfound infamy had taken a toll on my senior year. Teachers took issue with me. I wasn’t allowed to go on my senior trip, and there was a big debate as to whether or not I should be allowed in my own senior yearbook. I’m talking full yearbook meetings about what to do about me. There were jokes about what award I should be given (Most likely to be incarcerated) and what I’d be doing in 20 years (up for parole). In the end, the only traces of me in the yearbook were my photo and a short bio, and an ad in the back from my family congratulating me. There were no other pictures of me in the yearbook or any mention of my name. It was as if I was never there. I actually didn’t keep my high school yearbook. Would you if you were in my shoes?
I graduated high school and that summer began. I already knew I was moving to New York, and couldn’t wait to get the hell away from where I grew up. But there was still a chapter of this saga that needed to be closed. Around the Fourth of July, my parents received a phone call from my lawyer that the charges had been dropped because there was no actual proof that I did anything. It was definitely an Independence Day worth celebrating. But the reality was, I left high school with all these accusations and rumors associated with me that people believed. And that was how most people were going to remember me, regardless if any of it was true or not.
It’s been 24 years since I left high school, and I can honestly say I don’t talk to anyone from back then. I have no desire to. What can possibly be said at this point? I could joke now and say that my ex turned me off of girls forever and made me Gay. But when I think back on that time, I wish I had trusted my gut instead of worrying what people were saying about me, or what my mother thought was best. Somewhere deep inside, whether it was because she was nuts or because I was Gay, I knew something wasn’t right. But I didn’t listen to myself.
I guess the moral of this situation is to always trust your instincts, and they will never steer you wrong. I learned that lesson the hard way, and it involved police and lawyers and completely destroyed my senior year of high school, and reputation. But I learned my lesson, and I definitely follow my gut now when it comes to people and situations.
Interestingly enough, people who know me well will say I’m an amazing judge of character, and I can figure a person out pretty quickly. I’m definitely more guarded with whom I allow in my life, and in my inner circle. My circle may not be the largest, and I may not have a million friends, but the people I do have in my life, I trust completely and I know have my back. And they can say the same about me.
So if that was the lesson to learn from a crazy ex, I guess I have to thank her for teaching it to me.