nobody's grrl, and who the hell is marley?

wed jun 24 2009 ashley's room 1:12AM

as i stepped out of the train station, i was greeted by a light misty rain. that's all new york is good for anymore, rain. regardless, i welcome the nasty weather, because no matter how you look at it, being outside on a rainy day is a whole lot better than being trapped inside all day. i might as well enjoy some fresh air on my five minute walk home. besides, the rain smells great.

there is something enticing about the way the rain smells on the hot concrete on a humid summer night. it helps mask the smell of piss and trash that usually lingers on the street corners. as i walk home, i want to lift my face to the sky, but instead i look down. some neighborhood boys are on one of the porch stoops, and they gave me trouble a couple of nights ago. i focus on the pavement as i pass three or four boys, a much smaller group than last time. instead of yelling ugly dyke at my back, this time they let me pass in silence. i have almost reached the end of the block when one of the boys calls to me, "hey aren't you marley's grrl?"

i roll my eyes and keep on walking, instead of yelling back "i'm gay", like last time. ive learned my lesson. its late, and i am still, after all, a young grrl walking home at night. i don't know why i keep letting this little boy constantly get under my skin. it probably has to do with being called someone's "grrl". i haven't been called than in a long time. not since brandon.

i can picture us now, in CVS, hanging out near the candy aisle. he kept thrusting a camera phone in my face, which i was doing my best to avoid. "i don't like having pictures taken of me," i told him through gritted teeth. he kept aiming the camera persistently in my face, ignoring my protests. "come on," he said, "i don't have a picture of you yet. how am i supposed to show off my grrl to the guys if i don't have a picture?" his grrl. his property, basically, to do with as he pleased. it always surprised me when he made claim to me like that. i never felt like he wanted me, even when i wanted to be "his". mostly because he never touched me.

i remember how hard it was to convince him to even hold my hand in public. i would grab his large, strong hands, and he would give my fingers a tight squeeze and then let go, sticking his hands in his pocket and letting my rejected one swing back to my side. it took a lot to get him to kiss me too. after our first- and only- date, he got in the habit of kissing me on the cheek as a greeting. i wanted more, though. i knew he was interested in my mind. he called at approximately 12Am every night, and we would chat for hours. i wanted to be reassured that someone could want me for my body.

once he came to visit me at home and sat on the floor adjacent to my bed. i remember crawling to him, in between his legs in what i hoped was a very sexy way, and turned around, resting my head on his chest. i wrapped one of his arms around my waist, and took one of his hands in mine, playing with the heavy ring on his pointer finger. he nuzzled his chin in my hair, against my cheek, and i offered up my neck to him. he chuckled, whispering in my ear, "you like that, huh?" and got up, announcing that it was time for him to go.

i once asked him why he never touched me, why we had such a hard time being affectionate. he told me that it was because he he didn't date sluts. i could hear the pride in his voice over the phone as he said it, as if he was happy that his girlfriend of three months had yet to contaminate him with her dirty, impure body. god forbid i ever mention wanting him to fuck me. god forbid i ever try to be sexual- no, that would make me dirty, make me a whore. and so when i broke up with him, i told him that it was because he had turned me into a lesbian- that i was so desperate for affection that i had ran to the gentler sex. of course, this is ridiculous- i was queer before he had even come into my life, something that excited him, "as long as he was allowed to watch".

so now, i enter my empty apartment, trying to erase all thoughts of brandon from my mind. it's hard, though. days like this, i wouldn't mind going back to him, even though he was a prick. it is hard being alone. all of the rejections in the past two years have erased any thoughts of me with someone else completely from my mind. i wanted to use my summer as a way to remind myself that i can be wanted or that i was worth something, but i am too busy and too tired and too old for that now. imagine, not yet 20 and already i feel too old. i have too much to worry about, like when my first check is arriving, or whether or not i will be able to make rent, or how in the hell i'm supposed to get to london in the fall. i don't have the time to belong to anyone ever again, especially when i feel like a large part of me doesn't even exist. maybe one day i can revive that part of me, one day when i have the time and energy to want to be vulnerable again.

it's funny. i used to think that kid was asking me if i was "mali's grrl" but who the hell is that anymore? i don't know if im a mali or a hopper or a jackson or a stokely, but.. that's another story for another day.