Fasten your seat belts, ladies and germs, you're finally about to meet Donn. The real one. The one that I know. And keep secret.
You all know me as a brash, bitchy, in your face, loud mouth. Yeah, the totally caustic one. Extroverted, over-confident, outgoing and sometimes totally frightening. Nothing could be further from the truth. It's all gilding. That's the me I really wish I was. Scratch the surface off, find that hidden door and if I let you in you will find a totally different Donn. The real one. Only a handful have managed to make it through that portal.
In my heart of hearts I am cripplingly shy, introverted and insecure. I'm an act. Which I have to admit, I play damned well. I panic in large crowds, I cringe in new situations and I wet myself when surrounded by strangers. I hate meeting new people. In all honesty, I have the social skills of a potato. I deserve an Oscar...
My family life was a nightmare. Don't even ask. My mother made Joan Crawford look like a day care provider and my father was a distant, absent and silent alcoholic. Yeah, that was a pretty combination.
When I was five years old I was sexually molested by a stranger on the Chesapeake Bay Ferry which my father had put me aboard alone. When the creep was done he threatened to toss me overboard if I told anyone. This is why I am scared shitless of water to this day. I blocked it all out immediately until I was in a lecture pit in college when the entire day came screaming back to me in about half a nano-second. The projectile vomiting that insued was amazing. Almost four rows in front of me. I suddenly had answers to questions I had never asked. My life changed. The final chapter of the "me" you "know" was finally carved in stone.
In March of 1971, while a Senior in high school, I tried to kill myself. Big time. A full bottle of 300 mg Tuinals (Google those things, they're BLOODY AMAZING!!!) and a half of a bottle of scotch. I was serious. I was found 14 hours later by my parents, cold and quite blue. I made history. I survived. Somehow. Apparently bad weeds are hard to kill. I coded three times in the ER. Yes, I have had an out of body experience. I gotta tell you, those things are entertaining as hell!!! Much to my parents dismay I signed myself into a psyche ward at UW. They never forgave me. It cost me a kidney but such is life. For the first time in my life I saw fear in my mothers eyes. Of me!!! I owned her from that point forward. I turned my first corner. All on my own...
While in college I almost got married. To a woman. A real one. What the hell was I thinking??? Six weeks and counting. I had not yet projectile vomited... Then I put the first dick in my mouth. Things changed again. I'll spare you the details. Let's just say a month later I was back in San Francisco at 18th and Castro as the ultimate Castro Clone in Disco Heaven with a tight white t-shirt, ass hugging bell-bottoms, platform shoes and a late '70's porn mustache. I was smoking hot!!! I have never looked back. Well, at my mistakes, yes. At the future, no.
But, through it all, that little guy from 1958 has never let go of me. Little Donnie. With the red and white plaid cotton shirt, the blue shorts and the saddle shoes. I remember him and hold him close in my heart. He's the "me" that never got the chance to be "him". He will always be there. He got on a ferry "normal" and got off of it changed. Forever. The two of "us" make me who I am today. Thank god...
Little Donnie was a force to be reckoned with. He happily tumbled down stairs, teeth be damned. He loved cookies. He still does. He ate boogers. No comment on that one... He loved saddle shoes. I still do. Bibbed overalls? Oh yeah!!! He drooled. So do I. He giggled. Me too. He shit himself. Oh, lets SO not take that exit... I love him. He somehow keeps me sane. And I keep him safe. And I thank him for making me "me"!!! We still have a cowlick. A bit grayer at this stage but a cowlick, none the less. Sort of.
He and I are an amalgam of strangeness. Old and young. Confident and scared. Head long into a wall with no thought whatsoever and hiding in a corner sweating at the same time. That little guy used to be me and I will keep him safe, warm and away from harm if it is the last thing I do for as long as I live. He's worth it!!! I remember him. And he knows me better than I do. By the age of eight he had given me a "Bucket List" and I have happily been taking him around the world ever since to make it come true for us. Little Donnie, I thank you with all of my heart for never giving up on you, me or us.
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