Vulnerability

I started drinking at 17. a pretty normal age — but people had been trying to get me to drink or smoke weed for years — mostly my sisters’ idiot friends, The Cool Kids, the ones who Had Sex and Wore Surf Brands and “Partied” on the weekends, etc.

Wouldn’t it be so funny if Maria’s brother got high? we totally gotta get Thomas Sky wasted, come on Thomas it’ll be fun. You’re going. You have to come down and party with us Thomas, Thomas, Thomas Tho-mas Tho-mas come on, Sunny why does your brother hate us? Why won’t Thomas Sky talk to us? We just wanna be your friend, come onnnn

I seemed like the kind of kid who would be easy to peer pressure based on my posture and tone and generally unconfident vibe, but actually trying to manipulate me was like running into a brick wall.  

The brick wall: I watched my dad drink heavily and constantly throughout my entire life. that was reason number one. but the realer reason was that I couldn’t let anyone see me. I thought that getting drunk or high would make me honest, and I couldn’t let anyone see “the real me.” I couldn’t lose control in front of others. I couldn’t trust anyone. I couldn’t be vulnerable. Particularly with girls. I had intense, years-long mental preoccupations with certain girls and never told them or anyone anything about any of it. I presented as completely asexual. My defense shield.

Like most people, I eventually grew up. Upon graduating from the island to USC, I immediately (literally on the shuttle from the airport to the campus) met a girl named Gemma who was a goodie-two-shoes like me. Never smoked or drank in her life. About a month into our situation-ship (my first physical one ever) I, inexplicably, felt like I was ready to be so vulnerable with someone. I asked her if she wanted to get drunk together for the first time. It’s kind of romantic, if you think about it, i was saving myself for love the whole time. 

She said no. I was distraught. But I was ready to unlock the other half of life. with or without her. The other kids in my freshman dorm, many of them much smarter than I, were drinking heavily several nights a week. I was a ghost to them. I stopped seeing Gemma and came alive. The aftermath of that decision, to join the party, is everything you read in this blog today.