Bullied: Lonely Birthdays

Chapter 4
Ten Years of Bullying: Lonely Birthdays
The drinking age was eighteen when I was a senior in high school. Therefore starting in early 1977, one by one our rite of passage carried us into the discos of southern New Hampshire. Of course most of us had started before the official date. My first time was at the drive-in theater in the summer of 1976. I was with my brother and two mutual friends. Paul was already a veteran as a member of the athletic in crowd. I had three beers, Colt-45’s and I was wasted. Paul got me into the house and attempted to get me into the bedroom without waking our parents. In hindsight I’m sure they were quite aware and knew everything that was going on.
It was now May 6th, 1977 and it was my birthday. This was the night that I could go out and do as adults do. I was affixed to habits of survival and escape. Thoughts of me were equivocated with dirt. Connections with peers followed a sad pattern. Two friends remained in my court although barely playing. Alex and David had hung in there with me but Alex was near the end. We had become quick friends, and spent a lot of time together. However, the “poor me” rhetoric had grown old for Alex just as it had done for so many other short-term friends.
We had talked during the week at school about going out Saturday night to celebrate my birthday just as we had done to mark Alex’s big day. The saddest sight looking in from the outside had to be looking at me in my family room on Friday night. There I was sitting watching TV alone as I had done on so many Friday nights during those high school years. Every few seconds I would glance at the phone. For years, I was convinced that my life would change and that better things would happen. After so many weeks, months and years of unbearable loneliness, I still could convince myself that someone would call and invite me to be part of something…anything. So I kept picturing that Alex or David would be heading to the phone to give me the call. As time passed into the later evening, I just sighed, lay back on the couch and daydreamed of “Being someone”.
Saturday was my birthday and my mom had already announced that we would celebrate as a family at Sunday dinner. This was great as I still looked excitingly at going to a club on this night. Desperation was setting in as I had not heard from Alex or David. So I did as I had done so many times before, I called them working all my neurons towards sounding relaxed and nonchalant. David’s mother answered and got David to the phone. “Hey David”, I sputtered. We are going out tonight, right? Quite coldly he explained that he was doing things with his family and would not be able to go out. One down and only one left. That empty, yet desperate feeling was building. How could I possibly spend my birthday alone and doing nothing? My mind was moving into high anxious gear.
I dialed Alex. As I mentioned we had spent a lot of time together, but I had come to realize that we always did what Alex wanted to do. His dad picked up the phone and we talked for a few seconds. Alex picked up the other receiver, “I’ve got it dad”, he said. Hey Alex, are we all set for tonight I stated with as much faith as I could muster. Alex, my friend who knew it was my birthday, said I don’t think I’ll go out tonight, I’ve got to work on my car. At this point, the phone just fell on my shoulder as I tried to locate some inner energy to continue the conversation. I should have said good bye and hung up the phone. Instead I groveled; I kept the possibility going…until Alex said well maybe if I can get this car issue fixed up. Alex said he would call me as soon as he was done with the car. Five pm passed with no call followed by six and then seven. So I picked that phone up and called Alex. No one answered. I dialed several times with the same result. In 1977, not only were there no cell phones, but most families did not even own a phone machine.
Here I sat, a young man, a product of ten years of bullying, diminished by the verbosity and physicality, scraping for the tiniest morsel of worth. Feeling numb and sensing nothing around me, I got into my dad’s car and drove to Alex’s house. There he was his head buried under the hood of his car. I walked up and said, “Hey, how’s it coming?” Alex looked out and said, “It’s giving me trouble”. He kept working. I handed him tools. It got dark. The work on the car was finished about 9:00. We went inside and had a beer. I said, “Let’s go out for a few.” Alex looked in a hall mirror and said it would just take too long to get ready. I put the beer can down, got in my car and drove home. As I had done so many other nights during my teenage years, I went into the family room, turned on the television. Slouching into the sofa, I grabbed the clicker, and set my station on “Escape”. Eventually the world in my head got quiet and I fell asleep.