The Day I Learned the Worst Thing You Can Say to a Guy.
By: Susan Sassi
Tags: Personal Essay, Relationships, Coming Of Age, Young Love, Love

Young Love

The Day I Learned the Worst Thing You Can Say to a Guy.

“I’m going to burn a swastika on your house when your family is sleeping. I hope you all die in the fire!” Ray yells, and I think, ‘That’s a weird idea for a date.’

Ray is my flaxen-haired Macaulay Culkin middle school crush. The first time I see him on the playground talking with my friend George, I am instantly smitten. I find ways to hang out with them, and I quickly discover he isn’t just cute and sweet, but also funny! Gasp. I am in trouble.

I am too scared to tell him how I secretly feel, so in true middle school fashion, I send a message via a friend, and just like that, we are dating. In middle school, this means hanging out at recess and sometimes holding hands. Racy!

I like him so much that I invite him to my Bat Mitzvah. I am thrilled because this means I will get to slow dance with him, and maybe, he will kiss me. Swoon! I am euphoric for what I am sure will be a magical celebration of my foray into Jewish womanhood.

But when I wake up the morning of the big day, I find the skin all over my face is peeling. My acne medication has dried out my skin so horribly that I look like a snake shedding its skin. No amount of moisturizer and make-up will cover it up. I am doomed to endure my big day as a hideous monster! On top of that, my dress makes me look like a Pepto Bismol covered marshmallow. Crushes on boys and suddenly hating everything about myself. It is as if the crazy hormones of puberty hit the exact day Judaism recognizes I transform from a girl to a woman. How appropriate.

My mom somehow manages to convince me my face is fine, and I brave the event. Once I see my friends and family, all the fears melt, and I have a magical time. I even dance with Ray. And after the party, as I wait with him for his ride, we talk. He asks me what is on my face, and I suddenly remember my dry skin. My heart sinks as I realize how I must look. I explain about the acne medicine drying up my skin as his ride pulls up. He gives me a quick peck on the lips, then jumps in the car and rides off. I forget all my problems, and I am elated. He kissed me! He kissed me! I’m the most beautiful woman in the world!

That Monday at recess Ray is not there. Some girl told George and Amy that Ray has a small penis. They think it's hilarious and make fun of Ryan. I am uncomfortable, but despite my protests, they continue. I could be tougher, but I’m too afraid of conflict, so I let them go on with their jokes.

As the week progresses, I realize Ray is avoiding me. I am confused when his friends begin to throw pennies at me. I know, free money is fantastic, right? But it’s supposed to mean I’m cheap. Ironically, I won’t have to be frugal anymore since I have all that free money now, dummy face. When Ray threatens to murder my family and me, I begin to wonder if something is wrong. It all escalates quite quickly before I find out what happened. George had a crush on me and was jealous of Ray this whole time. He saw an opportunity to sabotage the relationship with the one lie he knew would hurt Ryan the most. And obviously, there is only one thing in the history of mankind that makes a man insecure enough to destroy nations, having a small penis. (Insert slide whistle drooping sound.) Way to be a stereotype, Ray.

I try to tell Ray that George is lying, but why would he believe me over his best friend. Ray never forgave me, and since then, has never acknowledged my existence. In high school, a friend informs me he is still referring to me as a bitch and the world’s worst person. To this day, Ray probably still rants and raves about how horrible I am, and to be honest, it still hurts a little.

The significant lesson I learned is you are not others’ opinions of you. I had to learn my self-worth and not depend on it from a guy. What Ray was going through was all about him and his own fears. I just got in the way, or I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I still don’t fully understand why some men are afraid and hateful of women. What’s the worst we can do? Make fun of your penis? Steal your job? No, the worst I’m going to do is steal your fries. If you really piss me off, maybe I’ll trick you into frosted tips. The point is, your fears are lying to you, and you should definitely get frosted tips.