Finding My Voice – Part 1

“No. I don’t want to go upstairs.”

“Come on, let’s go.” He took my hand and slowly, but firmly pulled me out of the chair. His tone was humorous, but condescending as he completely disregarded my wishes. I could feel the frustration bubbling up inside me. Not this time.

–

I’ve always been quiet. As a child, I spent a lot of my time daydreaming, drawing pictures, or writing stories. Even among my peers, I only spoke when spoken to, but never really felt a strong connection with anyone except my sister.

I was also brought up very sheltered. I didn’t have any cable until age 14, so PBS Kids was my go-to tv channel. A lot of pop culture references went right over my head. I often found myself in a constant state of confusion, so common that it became a familiar sort comfort. People would make jokes, or engage in playful teasing, and I’d stare back with a blank face. Not understanding, not laughing, not getting offended, not reacting. I felt like I was in a different world, and had slowly learned to find peace in being blissfully unaware, a trait which I now know has both its perks and its issues.

When I say I was brought up sheltered, I primarily mean that I did not have a lot of outside experiences. But where I lacked in experience, I made up for in long talks with my dad.

If I had a question, there was almost nothing he wouldn’t answer. He told me where babies came from when I was six-years-old, and he didn’t use any cutesy substitute words for my innocent ears. At age 8, years before I hit puberty, he’s the one who told me about a woman’s period and what it meant. He’s the one who taught me how to cook when I was an adolescent. He spoke to my sister and me about boys, sex, our Seventh-day Adventist beliefs, and almost anything else you can imagine.

So while I cherish these talks I had with my dad, I almost feel like they made me “book smart”, rather than allowing me to acquire life skills for myself.

All of these experiences have transformed me into an extremely happy-go-lucky adult. I love expressing joy, happiness and excitement for extraordinarily small reasons, such as nice weather, a full moon, my favorite Friday morning smoothie, or a random text from a friend. I look for the good in life and amplify it. I acknowledge the negative in life, but diminish it. For this reason, the darker emotions, such as sadness, and particularly anger, have always been difficult for me to express. Sometimes I need to cry, but I can’t. Sometimes I’m angry with someone, but I opt to remain silent. These are traits that I am still working on within myself.

When I’m bothered, the easy thing to do is stay silent and let the moment pass, or find a way remove myself from the situation. This story explores one of the first times that I spoke up for myself on a major issue. That I didn’t give in. That I refused to be silent.

Grab a snack. I’ve got a lot to tell you.

I first met J.R. in my chemistry class during the 2014 Spring semester at the University of Memphis. Chemistry was delightfully complex. I took several notes during the lectures, and studied them diligently when completing the homework or preparing for quizzes and tests. The class took place in a large auditorium, and I sat right in the middle of the second row, to ensure I got the full effect.

Everyday that I entered the class, J.R. would already be there. The first few weeks of our interactions involved me smiling apologetically as he moved his backpack so that I could get across him to sit in the middle of the row.

Eventually, he reached out to me. We spoke about our many similar interests, including video games, anime shows, the Hunger Games books and Pixar movies, and we began to hang out outside of class.

At this point, I still stayed at home with my mother and step-dad, but I would often be on campus from morning to late at night, attending classes and completing homework. J.R., on the other hand, stayed in the dorms, so that gave us a lot of time to meet up, grab a meal, and just chill on campus in between our classes.

J.R. is a few months younger than me. This fact has little significance, but I offer it here solely for perspective. I liked him a lot. He was a welcome companion to help get me through the stressful chaos of college life.

He appreciated my quirks and smiled when I overreacted to small details. Other people often told me to calm down, or questioned whether the small yellow flower in the middle of the grass which caused me to leap for joy was worth all the excitement I gave to it, so I was grateful for his acceptance.

After about a month of hanging out, he invited me to his dorm room to check out one of his video games. We grabbed lunch, went up to his dorm and played a Japanese game involving gods, mythology, and battles on a planetary level (for the life of me, I can’t recall the name of it) on his PS3 for about an hour. Then he walked me out to my car, but before I left his dorm room, I gave him a hug for the first time.

Now, there’s something you should know about me and hugs. I love them. I think no hug is too long. If I’m able and the situation is appropriate, I tend to pull a person closer and hang on to them longer than what is usual. I gave J.R. one of these hugs, and the look he gave me afterwards was strange, like he was pondering on something.

I think it was after this interaction that I began to realize that J.R. liked me more than as a friend. I didn’t particularly mind. I liked hanging out with him too. I figured we’d see where things would go.

As J.R. and I kept hanging out, we’d hug more often, or he’d take my hand and stroke it for no apparent reason. I loved the innocent touches. One afternoon, we decided to hang out on the 3^rd floor of the University Center (UC). The UC is the main student building, which usually has a lot of activities and traffic on the 1^st and 2^nd floors, but J.R. picked this spot because the balcony of the 3^rd floor was often secluded. It was our best bet for privacy, seeing as his roommate had been spending a lot of time in their dorm room lately.

Whether it was from schoolwork, drama at my home, or both, I remember I was particularly stressed that day. So when J.R. unexpectedly pulled me into his arms, I clung on to him without hesitation and just laid my head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. We stayed in that embrace for at least three minutes, although it could have been five or ten for all I know.

Eventually, J.R. backed up just enough to look me in the eyes, then he smoothly closed the distance between us to give me a soft peck on the lips. I didn’t see it coming, but somehow, it didn’t surprise me at all. We returned to hugging, and I thought about the implications of what had just happened.

“Was that your first kiss?” He asked shortly after.

I can seem innocent to a lot of people, so it didn’t surprise me that he thought that could have been my first kiss, even though I was 23. (Heck, it almost was, now that I think about it. Conversation for another post?)

“No,” I answered, “But my first kiss didn’t count.”

“Did this count?”

“Maybe.”

He chuckled at my half-hearted answer. I perhaps do that more often than I should.

I can’t remember what we spoke about after. He might have said something along the lines of how much he liked me, or how long he’s been wanting to kiss me. I just smiled and enjoyed the moment. He was being very sweet.

I agreed to kiss him again. He wanted to “teach” me how to French kiss. The first time I felt his tongue in my mouth, I felt uncomfortable. He gave me some instructions on what to do, which I didn’t fully hear, then he kissed me again. The second time I felt his tongue, I decided I didn’t like it and wasn’t going to do it anymore. He gave me some more instruction and I shook my head and softly said, “No.”

“I know it sounds weird…”

“No.” I said more forcefully and did the only thing I knew to do. I untangled myself completely from him, shook my head and began to walk away. I knew it was an awkward and abrupt departure, but in the two months I had known J.R., this was the first time I had ever felt uncomfortable in his presence, and my body chose to flee rather than fight.

As I casually walked past him towards the door, he stared at me with a wide-eyed look of bewilderment, until he eventually called out, “Heather,” and took my hand. I paused to look back at him. “Thanks for spending time with me.” He kissed my cheek, then let me go my way.

After that experience with J.R., I spent the weekend thinking long and hard about whether or not I wanted him as a boyfriend. I knew my discomfort was only due to never before having French kissed another person, so that feeling would eventually pass. But did I like J.R. as more than a friend to spend the long hours on campus with? That, I couldn’t seem to answer.

I don’t like his accent. He seams to have trouble pronouncing certain words. He purposefully called me Hillary once, because he said “Heather” doesn’t roll off his tongue. He’s not doing well in chemistry. But he has a big heart. He came from a rough background and is doing the best he can with his life. Do I like him? Like that?

After hours of pondering, I came to the conclusion that I did not want to pursue a relationship with him, and I had to tell him before things escalated.

So the following week, when he sent me a text, inviting me to meet him at the 3^rd floor of the UC, I sent him a long text in response. Basically a break up text. Like a coward, I couldn’t do it in person, or even over the phone.

In so many words, I told him that I didn’t feel the same way, and we couldn’t keep on cuddling, but I wouldn’t mind grabbing lunch once in a while. I ended it saying that I wouldn’t be meeting him.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, J.R. gave me the cold shoulder for about a week after I sent the text. He never responded to it, and the next time I attended our Chemistry class, he reverted to silently moving his backpack so that I could walk past him to my seat. Just like the beginning of the semester. He didn’t speak a word to me, which I thought was bizarre, yet strangely amusing.

I figured I would give him time and space. Space-time. He would talk to me when he was ready, or he wouldn’t talk to me at all. Either was acceptable.

So one evening, I was hanging out on one of the public sofas that littered the halls on the 2^nd floor of the UC when out of the blue, J.R. approached me, sat next to me and began talking like nothing happened. He asked me what I thought about a movie that had recently come out. I was taken aback, but it felt natural to talk like this with J.R. again. We compared notes on the movie and connected so effortlessly, then after a pause, J.R. acknowledged the elephant in the room.

“So that text that you sent me, what the hell were you talking about?”

For some reason, the way that he phrased the question made me burst out laughing.

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to leave you alone or what.” He elaborated. “That’s why I haven’t been speaking to you.”

At this point, I’m almost rolling on the floor, but I calmed down enough to say, “I just wanted to let you know that I didn’t want to get into a relationship. I figured I should be upfront with that.”

He only shrugged. “I wasn’t asking you to be my girlfriend. I just like hanging out with you.”

It was an interesting statement, but it worked for me. And just like that, J.R. and I were back to normal. We hung out all the time, shared hugs, and while J.R. did try to kiss me, I never let him. I’d remind him that I didn’t want to enter a boyfriend / girlfriend relationship, which he’d always seem to brush off, saying that friends can hang out and kiss, and still not be boyfriend and girlfriend.

“If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it’s a duck.” I told him. (Later – much later – he revealed to me that he thought this statement was silly, but still held wisdom. Him bringing it up is the only reason why I remember saying it to him).

So another month into our friendship and it was nearing the end of the 2014 spring semester. J.R. and I had gotten into somewhat of a routine. We’d meet up twice or thrice a week on the 3^rd floor of the UC or anywhere else to sit and talk and sometimes even cuddle. Knowing where I stood with him, I probably shouldn’t have hung out with him so closely and familiarly. Even with all his reassuring that although he wanted to make out with me, we really were just friends, I would have to be foolish not to know that he wanted more. But honestly, in a world where friends leave, and change, and a close friend is next to impossible to come by, it was just nice to have someone, even just one person, to wind down with.

J.R. invited me to his dorm again. Although I had been in his dorm room once before, I had an eerie thought that maybe I shouldn’t go into his dorm this time since the dynamic of our “friendship” had changed. But I shrugged it off, thinking that we’re cuddling all over the place anyway. Things wouldn’t be much different in his dorm.

If you’re expecting something horrible to happen here, relax. We’re not there yet. Well, I wouldn’t really label anything in our experiences as “horrible,” but I’m getting ahead of myself.

There were two significant things that happened on my second visit to his dorm room.

1. Whatever words he used on me worked, and I eventually agreed to kiss him. He finally got to “teach” me how to French kiss like he had wanted that first time, and I was a much more open student. We made out for several minutes, and I found it to be a fun and exciting new experience.

2. I realized for the first time that J.R. could be quite aggressive. I always found him to be sweet and gentle. That day in his dorm room, we playfully wrestled for the first time and I noted how much stronger he was than me. Something in the back of my mind was telling me to be alarmed, but in the forefront, I was having too much fun.

Here’s one example of his strength and rowdiness that I will never forget: I stood at the foot of his bed and looked up at him. He came to stand directly in front of me, with only an inch between us. I playfully bumped him with my chest to make him step back. He stood his ground, and in turn bumped me with his chest, trying to make me fall back on the bed. We kept up this dance for several seconds, each of us determined not to lose, until he effortlessly picked me up and threw me on the bed. He then jumped on top of me and connected his mouth to my neck. I was so filled with adrenaline and excitement, that I giggled through the whole ordeal. The voice in the back of my head flared up again, This is inappropriate. You should get out now. But I trusted J.R., and was having too much fun to pay it any mind.

I eventually left his dorm room, and while I was feeling conflicted over the status of our relationship, overall, I just couldn’t get over how much fun I had. We had just made out and wrestled. I had never done that with anyone before. Again, I found myself asking, Do I want to be J.R.’s girlfriend?

I think towards the end of the semester, when final exams and projects were in tow, I began to feel differently about J.R. as I realized that he wasn’t a person who could help me relax. Yes, we had several common interests, but all of our conversations sat at the superficial level. A step below small talk, but no where near as deep as my soul was craving.

It also didn’t help that after that day in the dorm, he began to get more dominant about wanting to kiss me, touch me, or pin me to the wall. I would constantly have to tell him no, or push him away, but my demeanor didn’t match my words. I’d always be laughing, since happiness seemed to be my default emotion, and he often took it as a game.

I was slowly growing apart from J.R., but the event that put the nail in the coffin happened in the last week of the semester.

I had to complete a project in my communications course, which required creating a two-minute audio visual advertisement. I could handle writing the script and filming all the voice over scenes on my own. But I just needed someone to hold the camera for me as I delivered my lines on screen.

I really didn’t have anyone to ask other than J.R., unless I wanted to ask a stranger. Looking back at it now, that might not have been such a bad idea.

I didn’t have any classes that day; the only thing I needed to do on campus was shoot and edit my commercial, and I had all day to accomplish that task. Around midday, I asked J.R. if he would be willing to help and he obliged. He said he was off campus, but he’d be back at around 5 pm. Great! As long as we could shoot my scene in the daylight, I’d have nothing to worry about.

So I worked on my project and other assignments and completed everything I needed for my commercial except filming my own lines. Eventually, 5 pm came and went and I heard nothing from him. I reached out to him at around 6, asking if he would be back in time to shoot my scene before it got dark. He told me not to worry. He’d be there in time.

When the clock hit 7, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Not only was he not here yet, but I also hadn’t heard any update from him. I was annoyed, so I wasn’t going to reach out again. I went to the area on campus that I wanted to shoot, and held out the camera, selfie style, to deliver my lines. It took several shots, and I didn’t get the angle I envisioned, but the commercial turned out to be surprisingly decent. I got an A on that project and I did it all on my own.

The whole thing made me regret asking him for help in the first place. I find it hard to ask people for help. I like to find the strength to do things on my own. I don’t want to trust anyone but myself when it comes to my own success or failure, and J.R. had just proven to me (again) that I really don’t need anyone else.

And I get that he was probably busy doing something very important. Believe me, I completely understand that. But he didn’t have the decency to tell me that he’d be late. He reassured me, and didn’t come through.

At 8 pm, he finally called me, saying that he was here. With my scene already shot, and the sun set outside, he couldn’t have said anything more useless. I happened to be sitting on a couch on the 3^rd floor of the UC, waiting for my ride home, so he said he’d join me.

When he met up with me on the couch, he was in eager “ready to help” mode. I seemed to have to explain to him several times that I had already shot the scenes, and even if I hadn’t, we couldn’t film anyway because it was dark outside.

So he finally got the message, then shifted into “want to cuddle” mode. He touched my arm and shoulder. I ignored him. He tried to kiss me. “No.” I pulled away. He leaned forward and kissed my neck. I shuddered at the sensation, but still pulled away from him. “No.” Then I got a phone call from my step-dad saying that he was here to pick me up, so I got up to leave. And J.R. pushed me against the wall and sealed his lips onto mine. I kissed him back for a second before I used all my strength to push him off of me. “What are you doing?!”

“I was just trying to get you in the moment!” I growled in frustration and left to meet my step-dad.

The next time J.R. and I spoke on the phone, over a week had passed and the semester was over. I told J.R. that I didn’t want to do anything physical with him anymore. No kissing, no cuddling, no long hugs, nothing. There was a part of me that still remembered and valued his friendship, but overall, I was done.

J.R. was really amicable and nonchalant. He agreed with what I said, so much so that he decided we shouldn’t hang out anymore. “I’m an all or nothing type of guy.” He said. “I don’t want to be just friends with you, so let’s say our goodbyes.”

I would be lying if I said his words didn’t hurt a little, even if they had no logical reason to do so. But I wished him the best, and hung up the phone knowing that I would never speak to him again.

Or so I thought.

My interactions with J.R. were far too drawn out to be able to fit into one post, so I’m afraid I’ll have to call it here. If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my tale! It touches me more than you’ll know.

What would you have done differently if you were in my shoes? Let me know in the comments below! And while you’re down there, feel free to sign up for my mailing list so that you won’t miss Part 2, coming soon!