Sex, drugs, rock and roll!

It was a really important night for my social life. Instead of watching “New Year’s Rockin’ Eve” with my folks I was going to a party. One of my friends was dating the bassist for our high school’s most popular metal band, Zealot and I was invited to their exclusive New Year’s Eve party.  

I was getting those proverbial butterflies, as I dipped my head into the fresh pot of red Kool-Aid. I was hoping I’d meet a cute boy, who was as “depressed” and “hated everything” as much as I did. Once my hair had achieved the angsty red I was looking for, I showered and began applying heavy layers of black eyeliner. I remember having the hardest time trying to figure out which outfit I should wear: the black pants with the black shirt or the black skirt with black shirt.  

Before I left the car, sitting in the passenger seat, I asked my mom “Do I look alright?” She said “Yeah, if you’re into that sort of thing.” Giving me the confidence I needed and the answer I was looking for (the last thing I wanted was for HER to think that I looked good) I stomped up the stairs in my five inch boots and made my way to the party.

Kids were drinking beer, making out with each other and playing drinking games. I thought that was cool but I wasn’t really into it. So I mingled and people watched, mainly. I was painfully shy. I remember the drummer of the band got out his Zippo lighter and lit the lint on his socks on fire. Then it evolved into lighting cologne on fire in different parts of the house to scare people. They would spray the fragrance and immediately light it was it was being dispensed to produce this big flame of fire. It was neat.

Before I knew it we were counting down the clock and I got peck on the cheek from the guitarist. Then I waited for my parents to come and get me. I was timid, nice girl trapped in a rebellious teenage façade. Hardly sex, drugs, rock and roll.