When I was in high school, there was a girl I liked in my class. She was smart and pretty, and she came from a wealthy family. I came from the “other side” of Queens, so our relationship had all of the potential of a Lifetime movie.
One spring day, after math club, I walked her home. I bought her an ice cream cone at Baskin-Robbins. We sat in the sun and talked about how our SAT scores were going to determine the rest of our lives. The fact that we were sitting there together was a sign that she liked me. I was hoping this would be my first serious girlfriend.
That weekend, a group of our friends went to “the city” to see some movie at the Ziegfeld Theater on the big screen. Her friend drove us to the theater. It was six crammed into one car. I was in the front and she was in the back. She was all dressed up, wearing a dress, and looked fabulous. As we drove, I became upset when I saw her flirting and talking with one of my other friends. I could feel my stomach tighten. Until that moment, I had never felt such intense emotions, harsh and powerful feelings of jealousy and lust.
To this day, I do not remember what the movie was that we saw at the Ziegfeld or what we did afterward. I think we went out to eat after the movie, but I don’t remember for sure. Someone smoked pot, but it wasn’t me.
As we drove home, we took the same seats in the car. When I looked at her in the back seat, I wanted her badly, even though I’m not sure what “wanting her” meant as a virgin in high school. I just knew that I hated myself for wanting her so badly, and that these wild, animal feelings were turning me into some sort of Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde monster.
I turned to her in the back seat. She was wearing boots with her dress, and a silk blouse with no bra. I was so angry that I did not possess this girl for myself, or that she might give “herself” to someone other than me.
The next five seconds have haunted me for decades. As we drove over the 59th Street Bridge, I put my hand on her thigh, saying, “Is this what you want?! Is this what you want?!” She quickly blocked my hand and started tearing up. I grabbed my hand back and turned to the front, ashamed. The others in the car didn’t really know what had happened, because it occurred so quickly. When they asked her why she was upset, she didn’t want to talk about it.
I didn’t speak to anyone for the rest of the trip home. I later apologized, but she didn’t talk to me again.
This was one of the meanest thing I ever did, and the only time I ever did anything like this, and it affected my relationships with women for years.
This incident truly scared me, not only because of what I did to her, an innocent victim, but because I lost control. For many years, excessive emotions and sexuality frightened me, as if they were dangerous, never knowing where they might carry me, like a leaky raft on wild rapids.
Wow. Props for your honesty. I think we’ve all done some pretty terrible things in our past that we regret deeply, and we’ve all had some horrible things done to us. I like to think that the people that did the horrible things to me are as remorseful as I am for the bad things I did to others. Sadly, I’m pretty sure that still doesn’t excuse the puppy kicking thing.
If only you had been sitting next to her, this story might have had quite a different ending.
This was brave of you to share. I agree with Elly Lou, that we all have done horrible things. In high school, I slammed a girl’s head into my locker, thinking she had stolen my books and never apologized. Even after I found out it wasn’t her. Of course, I am remorseful.
Wow. It is difficult to talk about regrets, to air the dirtiest of our laundry in a place where the response could be so caustic. I admire you for sharing your obviously authentic remorse despite the risks of judgment and misunderstanding. I hope you feel a little better after getting it out, too.
Ugh.
We all have moments that make us want to melt into the walls.
Our sexuality can be very powerful–and scary. This is a good piece Neil. Really good.
I don’t know how I feel about this one. This one is so loaded. I hate that you did that. It makes me furious. But, this isn’t about me. I guess I’m just sad you felt that, did that. And, I’m really sorta amazed and blown away that you posted it. Mostly, I just want to know if you ever talked to her again. I wonder how she would write this same story.
Wow, brave for sharing!! I think the emotional and hormonal highs and lows we experience at that age are normal for everyone. We’ve all lost control. I’m sorry yours manifested itself in a way in which you’ve felt guilty about. You’re normal!
I’ve been reading a book that has quite effectively changed the lens through which I view adolescence (and all of childhood). It’s called NurtureShock: New Thinking about Children, and it offers fascinating insights on how the brain functions totally differently during adolescence than at any other time of life. It seems that for a great many reasons—not only hormones—we are predisposed to do very stupid things as adolescents, no matter how nice or smart or savvy or well-brought-up we are. Reading the book has allowed me to forgive some of my own adolescent foolishness and mistakes, as well as to better accept those of others (not to mention prepare for my kids’ eventual adolescence, were such a thing possible). You might want to check it out.
Brave to post about that experience, Neil.
I am positive we all have things like this that we deeply regret and wish we had never done. I know I do. The best we can do is learn from them.
You were the worst kind of jerk–nerdy, cruel, and scary all at once.
I can see why this incident and its memory haunts you. It takes courage to own and face our worst moments, to look past the regret and try and figure out why we did what we wished we hadn’t done, to find our triggers and work to change.
Wait a second. Why are we all saying, Neil you are brave? Neil, I love ya but come on. As a victim of sexual assault, I can’t just sit here and read all the, way to go Neil comments. What you did was fucked up! I get that you get that. I do think it took bravery to post it. But, I don’t think you should just get a million high fucking fives because you did. What if the woman wrote the blog post. Wrote about some guy shoving his hands between her legs in a car and saying what you said to her, making her cry. All of this unprovoked. Would we all be like, Wow suck it up chick. No. We would all be outraged. What the fuck? I’m sorry to highjack your comments, but this one is really throwing me for a loop. I really do like you as a person but I truly hate what you did. It makes me so angry and sad. I’m sorry to write that here, but some woman needs to say that.
I never buy into the whole “you’re so brave” thing. Not for any kind of public writing. It just doesn’t fit for me. It doesn’t apply here, I don’t think, any more than it applies to someone else writing through grief or trauma. It’s not bravery. It’s an awareness of the consequences, and something else being more important than the consequences.
Here’s what I think your something-else might be. Maybe, after all this time, you needed to expose this so that a group of women you already know to be articulate, vocal, passionate and opinionated would be given the opportunity to call you a prick.
Which would then give you the opportunity to nod and say I KNOW. And to say you’re sorry. And to tell them how it’s haunted you.
That’s not brave. That’s sensible. That’s needing to be called a prick, since that girl in the back seat never had a chance to. That’s us standing in for her, being her proxy, hearing you and nodding when you nod.
You’re heard, Neil.
xo
Neil, I’m sorry, but I have to ask. What is the truth quotient here? 100%?
Huh. I do not have any armchair (blogchair) psychoanalysis for you. It sucks that your impulses made that decision for you. It sucks that that girl and you have had to suffer the consequences. It all sucks. It’s all life. And I do admire you for sharing.
When I was 9, a friend and I hurt someone. It could have been considered a standard playground bullying event, but this someone was a mentally and physically handicapped boy. As an adult, I thought of apologizing often, but didn’t make the effort to find him and do so. Several years ago, I spoke to my old friend and she told me that the boy we bullied had since passed away. I regret not apologizing almost as much as I regret the original incident.
I’m just saying…
I think everyone holds inside them at least one rash, impulsive, shitty action that however brief haunts us in myriad ways. I think it takes courage to speak that action out loud even if the action itself was cowardly. Admission isn’t an excuse.
I read this earlier today when Neil posted about it on Twitter. I couldn’t bring myself to post a comment then; it bothered me so much that I had to reflect on it first. But now, after thinking about it all day, I have to say I agree most of all with what’s been said by Kelly and VGrrrl. I do understand that it’s difficult to reveal to others your most embarrassing, shameful moments. I respect that Neil had the wherewithal to do it anyway. But the victim in this vignette is not Neil; it is that girl who, 20+ years ago, was treated horribly by someone she thought was a friend. That girl who was, by many definitions of the word, assaulted by someone she trusted. I wish that, in the above comments, I could find a little more sympathy for what happened to her, besides just for the guilt you still feel.
I’m not saying that this is a simple situation, by any means; I think this story raises multiple issues for many of us. Beyond the facts of what happened that night, and what that means to each of us, it’s difficult because, to be honest, we are (some of us) friends with the one who did the assaulting. What do we do with that? Where does that leave those of us who feel some sense of loyalty, obligation, and friendship to Neil? This story involves us, now; now that we know what happened, how do we reconcile that with our friendship with Neil? And how do we reconcile that with our status as women (for those of us who are)?
What do we take away from all this? What do you want us to take from this, Neil? Why did you tell us this story? I doubt that the issues this incident brought to life have been resolved, or else it might not still haunt you the way it seems to. I don’t have the answers. But I think it would be very useful to you, Neil, if you could ask yourself why you posted this story, and what you need to deal with to put this story to rest. I hope you’re able to do that.
I’m sort of glad this has haunted you. I think we would have a very different Neil on our hands had you enjoyed the feeling of taking away that girl’s power.
As for how to relate to you, how to feel about now knowing that you were once a jerk-faced teenage boy… you’re still just Neil to me. Imperfect, flawed, human.
I wrote a post similar to this one several months ago. Because those involved are still around, and read my blog on occasion, I decided to allow a friend and abuse/violence-survivor to post it on her site. I needed to write it and get it out there, even if all these years later.
Many of the comments I got were of the “Wow, you’re so brave!” sort. And I’ve never really come to grips with that. Brave? Perhaps. I know asking for forgiveness from those I wounded felt a bit like bravery. Or at least I thought it would. I was forgiven, and we have moved on with our lives. But in the end, I was humbled, ashamed, and felt like a fraud; how many days had I lived as though what had happened was no big deal?
We live and learn . . .
If I were that girl in the car I’d have kicked your ass. Then cried. In private.
Wow, that not only seems so very unlike you, it seems unlike that adolescent you’ve described so often. If you were sitting in the front, other people must have seen and heard this exchange, no?
I think it’s always taking a chance to tell difficult truths in the face of judgment. I’m not sure I’d call it bravery – risky maybe, but that’s different.
If I went back through the years and unfriended people in real life or online who did ill-advised things from little ones to grave ones, I would likely have far fewer friends. What do I know about people who talk to me or whose words I read online? Very little, in truth. How do I know what people are leaving out? How do I know who is telling a prettier story than what is true?
I’ve done horrible things, mean things, that I would never post about, or maybe I just haven’t yet. I don’t know what that says about me. But I do know that I live a decent life now. And for the most part I’ve atoned for the things I’ve done that I felt were wrong or inappropriate. I’ve grown up into a different sort of person who makes reasonably good choices. Am I sorry this person was on the other side of your poor choice here, made in high school? I absolutely am. I hope she is okay. I think this post can and will trigger negative reactions. I’ve got my own story that I keep tucked away because it involves others whose story is not mine to tell.
But am I going to recast my entire perception of you based upon an action that occurred when you were a teenager, assuming you haven’t done similar things all along the road and plan to unpack those brick by brick as well? Am I going to demand things from you because of it that you don’t owe me specifically? No, because it really is just shades of who you are, an incident from decades ago that really, given what I know and understand about life on both sides of this fence is unfortunately none too surprising.
I hope she’s okay. I’m beyond sorry that happened to her. I’m sure you have your reasons for writing about it and I hope that they were served. Shame (unlike personal responsibility) helps no one in the long run, victim or victimized. I hope that neither person in this incident still carries any.
I’m a tad older than Neil, but I can recall being that gawky nerd who didn’t know how to express his desires to fetching females. It seemed that other kids knew some Magic Words you’d utter and get to experience mutually satisfying Fooling Around. As horrifying as the incident is, I find “Is this what you want?!” poignant because, like the teen me, the teen Neil really didn’t know what women want.
All these years later, Neil’s emerging from a long monogamous marriage and, in a mature, thoughtful and empathic way, struggles to figure out how to woo women in 2010. Makes me thank my lucky stars I’m in a long monogamous marriage because if my wife should ever kick me to the curb, I’d be struggling to find the Magic Words as well
I admire your bravery in sharing this Neil. It may have shaped your relationships, but in a way it shaped them for the better don’t you think? You’ll have been far more conscious of the way you treat women. And for that, I thank you. Your honesty is great!
Teens do some stupid shit.
I saw your follow up tweet to the post and thought you should know reading this past moment did not change the way I think of the ‘today’ Neil. It sounds like the last week has been
a rough one with a lot of emotional upheaval. It does not sound like you are asking to be excused for what you did, maybe just processing it in a very external way.
But then that truly is what writers do, right?
I only encountered this kind of aggression once (thank god). And it was horrible. It haunted me for years. It made me feel cheap and worthless, even after he apologized for his crass assault. This kind of moment sadly shakes a woman for years (forever) since it makes you acutely and constantly aware of your own vulnerability. In a strange way I hope it shook you for years too, and that it gentled you forever. It is clear that you like women and in a way this is why this story shocked me most.
Frankly, I am amazed by all these comments. It wasn’t as if the girl was being being molested by a child-molester. It was a bunch of high school kids who are clumsy – socially, emotionally and physically, and who have no clue how to behave or express very intense and overwhelming emotions. It’s not as if most adults ever allow teens to talk about *any* of this stuff, or work out how to be together.
Sex is taboo and forbidden and no-one wants to talk about it. All teenagers suffer from this type of clumsiness and angst. Both Neil and the girl suffered that night. And both have probably suffered all their lives. Everyone, brought up by an adult, suffers! Most adults are so screwed up that they unwittingly and unintentionally screw their kids up too!
So, Neil, I am so sad to read this story and so sad to think that you or anyone has been haunted or suffered so long about something that could have been healed so fast if some responsible person could have processed it with you all!
I’ve got a litany of bad choices like this in my past too my friend. We all do lots of stupid shit, it’s OK – feeling bad about it doesn’t make it OK, but knowing it was a mistake does.
I know from personal experience that it’s possible to cruise through the days with very little introspection and absolutely zero sharing about what’s going on inside. It takes courage and strength to kick over the mental rocks and study the creepy things that exist in our own psyche. In sharing your thoughts on something from within, something that’s haunted you and shaped you, you’re risking possible rejection. It’s great to be loved but even better to be loved by people who aren’t “put off” by the creepy things. Sharing a dark secret is like saying, “Sure you love me now, but will you love me if you know this about me?”
Also, there’s an element of testing the waters. You know how you feel about it, but isn’t it nice to have your thoughts validated or – better yet – modified by a group discussion? Isn’t this the basis of some forms of therapy?
And about that incident, I know from my own teen years and from raising daughters that girls can be just as clueless about the signals they’re giving. Adolescence is brutal but there doesn’t seem to be an easy way around it on the path to adulthood.
Neil, I find you sensitive and insightful – someone I’d like to get to know better. This tale from your past reinforces that.
I don’t have much to add, as I think the commenters have all much more eloquently expressed for me everything I thought while reading your post. But you don’t say whether you had any subsequent interactions with this girl, and whether things were changed between the two of you.
Pingback: Okay, Fine, Dammit » All the Little Things (in response to Neil)
That’s awful. But, I hope you can forgive yourself. Weights that stay on shoulders for decades outlive their initial benefit.
one more thing: i hope you know i love you (as much as a person who only knows you in a virtual world can) and think that the man you have become is an honest and gentle one.
Neil, I started to write a comment and it became epic length and so I posted:
http://okayfinedammit.com/2010/01/all-the-little-things-in-response-to-neil/
I’ve read the post and the comments. I’m headed over to read Maggie’s response in a little bit. But I wanted to say that if you can find and apologize to this girl, I think it would be a good idea. She probably remembers the incident – she might get some closure she needs. If it’s affected your relationship with women for years, then it is probably affecting her relationships as well. Give her the apology that she deserves, if you can.
And once you’ve done that, make peace with yourself. We all do stupid, horrible, mean, hideous things. I don’t know a single person who hasn’t committed some sort of horrible act, be it purposefully, accidentally… we all have to live with our actions. Grow from them, if we’re smart, and be better people.
Neil you get my nod…for all of the little things that have stayed with me throughout the years…and for all of the men that I will never get to confront…you get my nod.
And also my thanks…for saying this out loud.
i’m always, always, always amazed by the sheer capacity of another to judge.
As a Catholic, I fully believe that the only way to truly get forgiveness is through admittance and therefore in forgiving oneself. For that, I”m glad you shared.
I’m sorry it happened, but life happens and mistakes occur. Not one of us has lived a life devoid of hurting others. We all make the wrong decisions sometimes, and the way we handle it defines us more than the mistake.
It is hard to publically admit something big that we do. But then to have to endure the ridicule and the judgement of others; that is uncalled for, as it portrays itself as stoning. Remember the adage of ‘ye without sin, throw the first stone”?
I’m sure that Neil has punished himself for it. Its not our job to do it, and we need NOT approve it or remember it.
You’ve aired it, now forgive yourself, accept forgiveness and allow it to be in the past.!
I cannot imagine you doing such a thing. That I can’t means that you realize that what you did was horrible and that you’ve felt enough remorse for it to not repeat the mistake.
That being said, teenagers are not adults. The brain is not fully formed until we are 21. Kids don’t have good impulse control and are fighting raging hormones. In other words, they do stupid shit. They hurt other people. With luck they learn from it and do better.
As a survivor many times over, it means a lot that you wrote this for the world to see. Are you brave? Yeah, I think you are. That doesn’t mean I’m condoning anything – there’s nothing for me to condone because it happened, there’s no going back. What’s brave about your writing this is that you admitted fault “out loud” and owned your actions. You’ve opened a vault and opened the door to comments good and bad. I can’t go back and change anything that happened to me, but what I can say is that it would definitely mean something – NOT everything, and it doesn’t mean it would give a free pass – if my abusers would just fucking come out and own it and feel genuine sorrow. It would be easier to go through life knowing that they felt regret. Again, would it forgive? No. But it sure as hell would lift something off my shoulders.
Again, I’m not passing judgment on you or the situation or anything. I can’t do that. I just want to let you know that I appreciate your honesty and your putting your whole self out there and not doling out only the Good Neil, like so many of us do about ourselves. That’s what I think is brave.
Do you still remember her name? I wonder if you could track her down. Speaking only for myself, I can say that a sincere apology would mean so incredibly much.
I am glad you feel remorse for what you did, because what you did was awful.
I hate your actions, but I do admire you admitting to it, the truth of it.
As for forgiveness, absolution? It is only that woman’s to give.
This post brings up an interesting point for me. I work in family violence, and there are tons of programs for women, but not so many for men that hit them. I’m wondering of we listened to men about why they abused, if that would make a difference.
Neil, did you ever talk to someone and work through this? Did anything like this ever happen again? It was very, very brave of you to post this.
I am not going to applaud you for sharing this one the Internet.
This is a horrifying act. Something that you should have worked through in order to make sure it never happened again.
I’m wondering if you were ever able to apologize to the woman in question? Even years later it would make a difference to her.
I’m going to take the easy way out on this one and just say that it’s more “ABC Afterschool Special” than Lifetime TV Movie. Because Lifetime is after our time in high school.
Oh.
I was on the other side of your equation, except that he went further than you did.
I’ve struggled for years with what happened. I never voiced it because I thought it was too “small” to be considered assault.
Recently someone told me that no, it was not too small, not at all.
Why did you post this? Are you looking for forgiveness? Did you think in writing it that you might forgive yourself? Do you believe that you need to be forgiven?
I don’t know what to say.
FWIW, it doesn’t change how I feel about you. One incident from a person’s life doesn’t make (or break) that person. It’s in the totality of the small moments.
We’ve all done things we are not proud of, moments where we don’t even recognize ourselves at all. High School is the time where so many of make so many mistakes, do things that are almost unspeakable of now, things that we even have regrets about. I could start an entire new blog about some of my stories. Things I’d hate my children to know. Don’t be too hard on yourself.
I can also say that I’ve been in that girl’s shoes a few times, as well, from high school, etc.
In October, This American Life replayed a show from 2002 about people who do bad things called “Devil on My Shoulder.” Reading this, I felt the same feeling during the podcast – remember the inexplicable moments I’ve had doing something truly terrible when I knew better. The opening story is a collection of people telling stories about things they did with the devil on their shoulder.
I think things like this make us human.
This is my first time reading your blog, so I don’t have a universal view of you from anything but this post. As a woman, a victim, a mother of 3 daughters…I’m angry. Everything I’d like to say was pretty much said by Kelly.
But I am glad you wrote this. We have to have a dialogue about this sort of behavior and how men/boys relate to and think of women/girls and what rights they think they have to their bodies. We have to talk about this sort of thing, because not talking about it creates a petri dish for sexual assault, creates an environment shrouded in secrecy, silence, shame, ignorance…
So, I’m glad you wrote this. I’m glad we’re talking about it, so that now we can go and talk to our sons and daughters. Now we can have an internal dialogue about self worth and who has the right to diminish that.
Also, regarding “apologizing” to this girl. I don’t think she needs an “I’m sorry.” I think that sort of approach would be self serving on the part of the perpetrator. But a pronate, face in the dirt, “I am shit for what I’ve done to you…and it is a poor representation of who you are and what you’re worth,” bon-deep, heartfelt, contrition may go a long way toward healing for you both.