November 1992--Pat Robertson Screws Up; Peter Turns the Screws
I bought a Bush/Quayle button in the Campus Shop one day, and displayed it proudly on my jacket. One day I went to sit in the Pub, probably because Julie was there, and she saw my button.
She cried in dismay, "Bush?! But I thought you were so cool!"
I laughed. Hey, she thought I was cool!
So many people around school talked about Clinton and said they were voting for him. One day in Fiction class just before the election, someone said with confidence that Clinton was going to win. I laughed inwardly, knowing from Pat Robertson's infallible predictions from God that Bush was going to win. On the night of the elections, I waited eagerly for the results.
I sent in my vote early, since I had applied for an absentee ballot from Indiana and it was to be mailed before the actual election. (Things are done differently there than in Florida; the absentee ballots have to be received by election day.) It felt so good to finally vote for the first time ever.
I didn't even think of voting for someone other than Bush, since it would be useless to vote for a loser. Of course, I still felt that none of the candidates was the best this country could offer.
I went out for a while, but when I came back, Clarissa told me the projected winner. I couldn't believe my ears when she said--
Clinton had won.
How could this be??? God had told Pat that Bush would win, just as He'd told Pat so many other things that had come true. God knows the future, so how could Clinton have won? It just wasn't possible! There must have been a mistake! It would all be sorted out in the morning; maybe some votes they'd missed would show up, and a recount would show that Bush had won.
I watched The 700 Club every night, waiting for Pat to explain himself. Then Ben Kinchlow finally asked him about it; a man had come up to him with tears in his eyes and asked, "What happened?"
Pat said, "I guess I missed it."
That was it? My faith in his predictions began to falter. I mean, this was major. He had said, look at your track record; up till now, his had been perfect as far as I knew. But if one of his predictions could be wrong, any of them could be wrong, and you wouldn't know which one until after the fact.
One day, Shawn called me over; when I went in the door, I found him playing his Sega with--James! They were playing hockey. I didn't even know that Shawn and James knew each other. Then the game ended and James left. I don't recall him saying much or flirting, so there's nothing to tell.
Since I now knew Shawn and James were friends, I asked Shawn if any of his friends ever talked about me. To my great disappointment, he said no. But I do find it a great shame that I didn't press the matter further, and tell him my feelings for James. He probably would have been more than happy to help me--or else he would've gotten jealous, and decided he wanted to be my official boyfriend.
On December 4, the Mirror ran an article called "The Best Acting in Years" about the November 12 school play Lion in Winter. Derek (from the pepper steak incident), Steve, Darryl, probably Ned, and others truly were excellent actors. The play was both depressing and funny. Derek seemed to love playing a prince. As a black man, he didn't look related to the king's family, but that didn't matter in a school play. All that mattered was, he made me forget I was watching Derek and think I was watching a prince. Steve played a whiny Prince John, and he did it so well that we wondered if he'd had a lot of practice as a kid.
My monthly paycheck wasn't much. I only made about minimum wage for ten hours a week, which at the time was $4.30 an hour. But I felt rich, since the cost of living is so low for a student on a college campus who only pays for laundry, snacks, Muskie meals, and other things. And Food Service workers got Muskie coupons.
During football season, guys wore both Packer and Bear clothes and hats. The Bear fans were gutsy, since the Packers and Bears have been bitter rivals for years for some reason. Sometimes a pre-game show would be on the Muskie TV when I got dinner; one of the sports announcers could never just say "Bears." He always said it "BEAArrrrrrrs," in a derogatory tone.
Krueger Hall was soon afflicted by an obscene phone caller. Some thought he used to be a janitor or security guard at the school. He supposedly wasn't anybody actually at the school; he always caused double-ringers, which meant off-campus. But somehow he always knew where to call to find the girls on campus. Krueger was his favorite target.
Occasionally he called other places. One night around 3am, Clarissa and I were awakened by our phone ringing. We listened to the ringing, then barely a split-second after it stopped, the phone in the guest room rang.
Once, when the obscene phone caller called Rachel, she actually had a whole conversation with him, asking him questions and such. We were shocked; "Isn't that dangerous?" we cried. But he kept calling her, and she kept chatting with him.
Pearl had an answering machine, and put a message on it which went something like this: "You have reached the room of Pearl and Cindy. If this is the room you want, please leave a message. If you want Sharon, you have the wrong number: dial 388. If you are an obscene phone caller, dial 371 for Rachel."
On November 15, the Zetas held a party in their meeting suite showing Wayne’s World. I planned to go because I wanted to see the movie. None of my friends could make it. Steve was there, Shawn was there for a while, and Darryl may have come around--but most of the guys were strangers, Zetas. I've never done well when surrounded by strangers. Shyness? NVLD? Both? I don't know.
I didn't understand why everyone liked Wayne’s World so much. No one at the Zeta party laughed much when they did watch it. They mostly played pool or chatted, I could barely hear the movie, and I didn't feel comfortable. I felt even more uncomfortable when Peter showed up.
When I saw the movie much later, I finally understood why it was funny.
The Zeta meeting suite was in horrible shape, terribly dirty. In the bathroom, for example, one toilet was broken and blockaded by junk, junk and dirt was all over and even in the sinks, and the other toilet's handle didn't even work. How could they have a suite without a working toilet? Didn't they ever call maintenance? Didn't anyone ever try to clean the bathroom? How could they stand this? It was a good thing they didn't live in the suite!
I did not expect Basic Instinct, a recent movie, to be played next. I knew little about this movie. One Zeta said there was a censored version--and they had the uncensored version. Oh, joy. The opening scene was darkness intermingled with cries of obvious sexual pleasure. I was even more uncomfortable than I had been all evening, but when Sharon Stone's character pulled out the ice pick, I had to at least know what was going on, how in the world she could be so cold as to kill the man she was having sex with. The discomfort was even worse because Peter sat in a corner nearby. I was on a couch at this time, and he was in a chair almost adjacent to mine, with maybe one or two people between us. He seemed uncomfortable as well during all the sex scenes. Someone teased him about being off in a corner by himself.
After this movie, to my great relief Steve suggested Princess Bride. I chatted with Steve about it, which was such a relief. It was good to have someone to talk to at that party besides Shawn, who didn't stay with me for long periods. Occasionally, Maizie would be near enough to pet.
In general, the evening was a torment. I would have left if not for the movies.
My torment was complete when Shawn said a day or two later, "Don't tell anyone I told you, because the Zetas would kill me. But after you left, they sat around asking if you'd said two words to anyone all night." I was disgusted and hurt and embarrassed. I didn't even know most of them, and had cared about little but watching Wayne’s World. And most of them didn't talk to me, either. Outgoing people often complain that a shy person never introduces herself to them--yet they themselves never talk to the shy person! If it's so hard for me and so easy for them, why do I have to do all the work?
If you ever read the book Mansfield Park by Jane Austen, Fanny Price was almost exactly like me at that time. She tried to be good, tried to be moral, yet was so shy that she couldn't stand to be surrounded by strangers. She'd feel inner indignation about things that violated her idea of morality and right, yet wouldn't often say much about it. It seemed Jane Austen understood my type of person so completely that she could write about one without sermonizing on how this shy person should be more outgoing. If Fanny Price were there instead of me, I believe she would have gone through the same things and emotions that I did, and that she, too, would have been talked about after she left in a way that would embarrass her.
I was about ready to cry at the news.
How much of this was related to NVLD? I’m not sure, but it certainly wouldn’t have helped. It could also have been a form of selective mutism. I didn’t want to turn into an outgoing person. I wanted people to accept me the way I was, the way I was born. (Because of this, I can understand the feelings of people who say they were born gay.)
On November 18, Memadmin called me in because Peter told her I was spreading rumors about him. It was all a lie. I was not going around telling people that we were getting back together. Why on earth would I tell people we were back together unless he came to me and said he wanted me back? I didn't even want that anymore, because Peter disgusted me. I wanted Shawn--and my Lit teacher. Peter even told Memadmin that my stories about the mental Link were rumors, that I was making it up! Whatever drove him to tell her this, it hurt me deeply. Memadmin said, "I don't believe he has the ability to hypnotize.” But as I’ve said before, I’ve had a professional do it, so I could recognize it.
She said that Peter wasn't accusing me of "lying," that he said I probably believed what I was saying was the truth. But that contradicted what she had only just said.
"Is it because I went to the Zeta party?" I said. "I just went there to see the movie."
"I don't think so," she said. "I got the impression that his Zeta brothers have been teasing him."
"Why didn't he come to me and talk to me?"
"I think he's afraid you'll think he wants to date you again."
Excuse me?
I figured the real reason was, he wouldn't come up to me and tell me I was lying, when he knew I was telling the truth. Over the past months, Peter had lied to and about me, even when he knew I knew the truth. What could I possibly have done to make him hate me so much and tell lies about me to other people, to even try to get me in trouble with Memadmin? And why did he act like we were friends again in September and October, greeting me kindly whenever he saw me, only to turn around and be my enemy again when I tried to be nice and show him no hard feelings through my note in October? How could he accuse me of spreading rumors, when I only told the truth and my future hopes, while he was the one spreading rumors? Even when I dated him, I knew he often lied to people, though I never thought he'd lie to or about me. I strongly suspect that these rumors are one reason why nobody asked me out for quite some time. I suspect that they were spread among his fraternity brothers, his girlfriends, and anyone who would listen; who knows where they went after that. The following year, I discovered that he had carried his rumors to a new friend, Phil, who wanted to date me. Phil did not listen, but had to deflect the vicious comments made by his brother Dave and the ignorant ones made by his mother (who kept asking if I was doing "marriage talk" yet). Was I not allowed to date, while Peter went from one girlfriend to another?
This left me in a bad humor, and a sad humor. The next evening, I went to a David Meece concert with Pearl and Judy, at a college in or by Milwaukee. Pearl said she was going to see her "man." After the concert, I got a shirt and CD. The concert was just David and his piano, no band, but that was plenty. He sang heartfelt Christian contemporary music. At least once, I quizzed Pearl on the music, since we were both in Music History, and he incorporated classical music into his songs. He was stand-up comic and serious by turns, telling us his life-story, and what God wants us to do when we're going through hard times--just the things I'd been doing, such as praying and communing with Him. I began to get teary-eyed near the end, as things he said hit home and reminded me of Peter's harassment. Pearl saw that, but I think she thought it was over Meece's own story. Afterwards, she had to go "meet her man" and have her picture taken with him. He put his arm around her as she stood, and he sat on the edge of the stage, the top of his head to hers. (She was short.) She smelled Polo cologne for the rest of the night. She told him her plans to get him to Roanoke. My turn came, and I said his speech had touched me. I was shy about it, of course, but I told him I was going through hard times and I'd been doing what he'd to do. He asked me where I went to college--Roanoke, which was on my key ring. I said it was by S--, and someone in the line cheered. I gave him the travel time, one hour from Milwaukee. He said we should get him out there, that I should come along when they pick him up at the airport, and I should tell him my story. David Meece wanted to hear my story! Maybe he even remembered me in prayer sometimes.
When Dad came to pick me up for Thanksgiving Break on Friday the 20th, I was at work, so he went to Nancy. He was impressed when she said, "Oh, she's one of our best workers."
Thanksgiving Break was full of homework. I think there was rarely a minute, other than sleeping or eating or showering or going to church, when I wasn't doing homework. If I took any breaks, it was to celebrate Thanksgiving, and even then I probably had a book with me on the couch while everyone gathered in the living room after turkey lunch.
On our way back to school, my parents and I stopped for lunch in Marc's Restaurant in S--. There was Julie with her parents! Julie and I stood and laughed.
A current song was "Please Don't Go" by Double You. It was catchy, a dance song, and part of it went, "Babe, I love you so. I want you to know that I'm gonna miss your love the minute you walk out that door. Please don't go." There was also, "Please don't go, don't goooooo, don't go away." Sara, Tara, Carol and others in the Group liked to sing it differently: "Please don't stay, don't staaaaay, don't stay here." And, "Babe, I hate you so. I want you to know that I'm gonna have a party the minute you walk out that door." Admittedly, this was far more fun to sing than the song itself, and I could never hear the song after that without thinking of it.