Confession of a geeky boy


by Maxime Durocher, February 11, 2012

For the past week, I've been mulling over this post. I wanted to share the image that often comes to my mind when I think of what I was before really blooming. I was really reserved, didn't talk much, was clueless toward females, I was one of the top brain of my school (even though I slept through most of my classes), and tended to explode violently when I got picked on. The interesting result was that I was a near-nerd with a bad reputation, so I was left alone by the bullies.

The image is this...

In high school, there were these two girls, close friends, both part of the heavy metal social group, who had, two years in a row, their shared locker near mine. According to their allegiance, they both wore a leather coat, tight jeans and high heels, both pretty in a very makeupy way with 80s puffy hair, but one was blond, the other dark haired.

They enjoyed teasing me almost every time they saw me, especially the blond one. I didn't understand it, they were weird... always in leather, hanging out with the head-bangers that I considered even weirder... those people went out of their way to be seen, rocking the boat, loud, making trouble. I just didn't understand what was the point.

So the girls teased me, and teased me, and teased me... especially the blond one... for some reason. Always looking at me. Trying to find a flaw, I thought, something to make the pokes worst... I took it. Kept my eyes down. Didn't talk back. Didn't know what to say. Wanting it to stop. I was perceiving it the same way as when guys picked on me, but girls I couldn't hit. Even at that age, I already had a great respect for women.

The pressure kept building up... and up... and up. Finally, I blew a fuse, as I normally did. I screamed at the blond one at the top of my lungs (translated): "Leave me alone you WHORE!" and stalked off. After that, for the rest of the school year, she, and her friend, avoided me. Never heard from them again.

I've looked back at this passage in my life a number of time. First thing I understood about it was that when I yelled "WHORE", I had no clue what that word meant. Weird hu? I was probably 16, not sure. All I saw in that word was an insult. I sort of knew what it meant, but not completely. A rough idea of a destitute, somebody handled for sex... not much more than that. A definition built up from hearsays at best.

I wanted to hurt her. And did. The worst part is, I probably wasn't the first one to tell her that.

Nowadays, the irony is that it riles me up something furious every time I stop to think that we insult women by telling them they're promiscuous. How can a woman's sexuality bloom under such conditions? The whole society telling them it's bad. Not only that, but that it's even worst if you get paid for it. For FUCK's sake, it's just sex! Nothing wrong with that. And that service is one of the most genial and intimate service a person can be paid for and naturally well paid for.

I did hurt her, but I didn't know why I hurt her, I just knew that that word would. Because she looked as she did, without needing to be a promiscuous person at all, she might have been told that before by her mother, her father, her friends, her enemies... and even I. A brilliant, quiet, shy boy she had a crush on. She couldn't just come out and say it to me. It wasn't allowed, I was a geek, she was a metal head. She might have been too shy to say it out plain, not knowing my "kind", me being so different from her. She might even have liked me because I was least likely to throw the insult at her. By doing it, I might have convinced her that she was indeed a bad person, that all those bad things thrown at her were true. Everyone was saying it, even me. It's sad, and I was clueless.

Eventually, things changed for me, for the better. I got my first girlfriend, she thought me to please her, and I finally came to understand women, and flirting, and teasing... enjoying it. There's no more games, just fun. No judging, just peace and pleasure.

I just hope things got better for her too.