Before I continue my series A Wound in My Throat Shaped Like a Song, I realize that some context is necessary. I cannot talk about stage fright, about the torrent of unstopped rage sloshing through me, or even about all this dizzying gratitude I feel, without this context. Because it predates the newsletter (and because I’m super proud of it), you can listen to this piece here. I think it’s even better when listened to, but what do I know, I’m just a voice actor.
[content advisory: grooming, AOL instant messenger, and Maroon 5]
headphones recommended.
The first time you hear someone refer to "lips" and they aren't talking about their mouth, the puzzle gloms onto your brain like a cartoon alien parasite, sucking away at all possible explanations.
This feels like something you should know. After all, he said it so casually. You know if you tell him you don't understand, POOF! The spell is broken. He'll remember you're only 13 and all your hard work pretending to be a smart young adult will be for nothing. So you bluffed.
dharmaqueen8: I bet that will feel amaaaaazing
JJPSU99: then I'll lay down next to u, touching u all over ur body...
Your child brain goes blank. You want this, this is the idea, right? The warm tingly feeling when you look at him, it's a crush! You want him to lay down next to you and touch you all over, like couples on TV and in movies and don't forget the thing he said about your lips. Don't forget to google "play with your lips but not on your face" like how he said it, so you know exactly what he meant. Recon. You feel even more like a secret agent. After all, you're one of the spaz cases who likes homework, so researching late at night, cultivating your adult vocabulary, preparing for a next chat after both your bedtimes.
(because there has to be a next one, that's why this response means everything).
But how to respond? You understand what phone sex is, and that’s maybe what’s happening? So, what would you say back if you were on the phone? (a thought so terrifying, so exposing, that it sends your child heart Test-Your-Strength sledgehammered up to the boxing bell of your larynx)
If you're being honest with yourself, you would heave a breathy little sigh, an "mmmm" that's thickened with a sound that's a cross between exertion and curiosity. You aren't sure how, but the exact length, tone, and timbre of that mini-moan sits, fully-formed, on the tip of your brain's tongue. It's a cartoon director in jodhpurs and a beret giving you a line reading. You could do six perfect takes of it right in a row, that's how clearly you’ve rendered it. In fact, at 11pm or so, risking waking up your mom, you are so proud of this little sexy noise you invented that you try it out loud. You imagine making that noise in front of Mr. N, in front of Captain, in front of the white noise you hold where his title would go because even though you're like, 95% sure you're in love with him, it still feels weird calling a teacher by their first name.
But this all happens in about three seconds, and the ellipses he put at the end of his message means in no uncertain terms that he wants you to play along, to continue.
But what happens next?! What if you say something stupid and he's turned off? That would be the worst, since you still aren't sure what about you has turned him on. You just know he is "turned on," because that's what men who talk about laying down with women are. You know that much, that's fucking elementary, my dear Twatson. (That's the kind of sick put-down you'll have loaded in your verbal six-shooters by the time you're nineteen. You maverick.) You type.
dharmaqueen8: why not lay down on top of me?
You erase that. That's needy. You don't want him to think you're bossy. Even though that's pretty much all you've got for what happens after laying down and touching all over. The sex you've seen, the man lies down on top of the woman. That's what it looked like when you walked in on your Mom and Bill at the Disneyworld Resort. Try again.
dharmaqueen8: oh god
This is a stab in the dark. People say this all the time when they're having sex, you're sure of it. There's that joke your dad told you once, something like..."What's the worst thing about being an Atheist?" "Nobody to talk to when you orgasm!" So that means, yeah, duh, people yell out things like "oh god!" when they have sex.
You're paralyzed now. What if Captain isn't talking about sex, and you say something, and you take it too far? Holy shit, are you like, throwing yourself at him? What if he's talking about, I don't know, some tame kind of touching u all over ur body, and you go and fuck it up by saying something slutty like "oh god" like you're basically orgasming all over the place over here. Because, that's probably how it would go, you sitting there, so turned on you're just orgasming everywhere. Totally.
Shaking off the near-catastrophe of revealing yourself to be a complete ho-bag nympho, you realize with a smile that "oh god" could also look like an eye-roll, a dismissal, an over-it "ho-hum" YAWN. The idea that anything Captain could say to you would be regarded with dismissal is as foreign to you as Taiwan, something that exists only on small ovule golden stickers in souvenir stores.
But now you've been staring at the chat log for about 15 seconds, and those ellipses are still there. Still expecting you to continue. Lucky for you, when the going gets tough, you get clever. Don't go sexy and don't ignore him. Make sure you sound like you know what he's talking about. But keep it casual. not about touching or bodies, more like...more like his favorite band.
He's been playing that Maroon 5 album in class lately, while we do in-room assignments. What's that one, the love song? "Sunday Morning?" You know exactly what to say now.
dharmaqueen8: fingers trace my every outline? paint a picture with your hands? :)
You genius, you've just proven you know one of his favorite band's songs and quote song lyrics at him. Dudes love that. Poetry and song lyrics and stuff, that's romance, that's what turns them on.
JJPSU99: yes ok
Were there ever five crueler characters?
Instantly you wish you could gnaw off your own fingers for typing something as insipid, as stupid, as vapid, as un-sexy as Maroon 5 lyrics during what might be your best, indeed your ONLY chance to find out if your teacher has a crush on you back. You just had to be cute, didn't you? If you're going to save this, you have one shot, one hail-mary:
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