You'll Drive Me To Ruin

It’s funny, the things that enter your head when you’re walking through downtown with Led Zeppelin’s "Communication Breakdown" first thing in the morning. And by funny I mean, "really, that’s what you’re gonna drag up?" questions to my own mind.

I thought about the reply that I got when I had asked my grade school girlfriend to go out with me.

Notes, everything was done through notes. Notes were written, then passed onto friendly third parties who negotiated meetings. Things haven’t changed that much since; I gave GRa a note to pass to Biff when I asked her to marry me. It was a certified letter, for sure, but still a note. I believe, that back in the day I had written, in note form, "will you go with me?"

I wasn’t even sure of what responsibilities went with "going with" with someone, it was all very new to me. Julie, the friendly third party mentioned above, approached me at recess and told me that I should ask so and so to "go with me." "What does that mean?" I asked her. "You know, be nice to her and you guys hang out and stuff, you hold hands when you go skating." I tried to explain that that’s what we pretty much did now and Julie gave me the fifth grade equivalent of "just fucking do it.

When I think about it now, "will you go with me?" is really sort of an unfinished question. I mean, it’s elegant in its brevity, but does not explain what I’m talking about, or if she was easily confused, where I was talking about. This may explain the answer via note of:

"I tell you tomorrow."

I wanted to tell her that there should be a "will" in there, to at least make a contraction out of it, but I didn’t. I waited on the answer like I still wait on any potentially life changing answer; with quiet anxiety.

But it wasn’t that there was not a resounding "yes" coming back to me through Julie, it wasn’t that she was taking her time making what was a very important decision to an 11 year old that made me anxious. It was the sentence that had been scribbled out above "I tell you tomorrow."

I tried to read through the heavy lines of graphite that had eradicated the words previously written, and the only one I could decipher (before I quit trying) was "no".

The feeling of knowing that the first response to me from the girl who made my tummy do back flips was a "no" is one that I held onto for some time. She came back to me the following day with a yes and I was nice to her and we hung out and held hands while skating, but somewhere in the back of the mind, rummaging like a ferret, was that scribbled out decline.

I don’t feel that it changed the relationship, or scarred me for life, but I do feel that it’s a pretty good example of what my psyche feeds on. Even today, when I get the good news that I got the part from the audition, I imagine a separate cast list with another actor’s name scribbled out before mine was added.

Song Stuck In My Head Right Now: Well, naturally it’s "Communication Breakdown" - "I don’t know what it is that I like about you, but I like it a lot." Words of wisdom my friends, words of wisdom.