High School Weeaboo: Sexual Deviant
Part One is found here.
I was afraid to see T. my senior year, and I had attended Mass the last week of my summer vacation for the sole purpose of asking God to make sure T. transferred schools, forgot about me, or had otherwise disappeared. Silly, I know. I’m being rather dramatic, but I felt almost cried tears of joy when T. was in none of my classes the first semester of my senior year. Sure I would see him around, but he largely seemed to ignore me. I enjoyed the first semester of my senior year with my dear friends, and saw Star Wars for the first time. We had a little party where we picked the topics of our senior project. Mine was The Industrialization of China and What it Means for The Pursuit of The American Dream. I wanted to study economics, and I figured that would be perfect. My senior year was going like a television movie; I was editor in chief of the Yearbook and T. never bothered me. Not even once. The only things I heard about him was that he got suspended for having underage Lesbian Guro (graphic, detailed body-horror porn) in his possession while on school grounds; and that he was dating a thirteen-year-old weeaboo freshman.
I’m one of those students who’s overly critical of their schoolwork, and that paid off my senior year. By the time the second semester rolled around, I only had to take four classes, out of six. I had taken a late start my first semester (five classes), but I changed my schedule so that I was in school for the first four periods of the day. I moved my civics class from fifth period to first, dropping both fifth and sixth period.
T. was in first period civics. Easy for the reader to guess, I know. I’m sorry. I’m not good at building up suspense. It was obvious that T. had not forgotten about me, and was still as infatuated as ever. I was livid, and debated on changing my civics class back to fifth period. I regret that I decided to stay in first period civics. At the time, I figured if I ignored him that he would get over me quickly and go cry into the arms of a freshman girl, as he was wont to do.
T. didn’t really say anything explicit to me, and he seemed to have lost his former habit of yelling about my physical attributes across large distances. Of course, I would notice when he looked at me. I would ignore it. I operated under the assumption he would get tired of me as I continued to ignore him. He never really did, he was always gawking at me. I’m thankful he never, ever spoke with me. It made him easy to ignore, until my civics teacher began the process of selecting groups for the peer review of our senior projects. I got paired with T. (I mean, duh), and luckily, J. J.’s project was on Alzheimer’s, and T.’s project was on police profiling, and the techniques used to identify, arrest, and charge suspects. Sounds kosher. The project was ultimately about how inaccurate Law and Order was and surprisingly inoffensive (at this point in time), considering the source.
T. was giving his first of two mock presentations on a beautiful, late April day. I remember because it was my father’s birthday and the family was planning on going out to dinner. As the slides changed, T. was poorly explaining the concept of the attorney who goes into detail regarding the graphic death of the victim in lieu of explaining the evidence for the defendant’s involvement. He was antsy, adjusting his pants, and hiding behind the projector, and having the slightest trouble breathing. I thought he was nervous performing for an audience.
Suddenly, on top of his poorly formatted page was a poor young girl displayed for the world to see. I doubt she was more than fourteen. T. was using a picture of her graphically mutilated; sexually displayed body to argue his poorly understood point regarding common courtroom argumentation techniques. I lost it. How dare he use pretend to use that child as a visual aid that he says enhances his project, when everyone knows that ‘s not the case. I’m not stupid; he got suspended for having UNDERAGED GURO PORN.
I remember shaking, and standing up. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I called him out on sneaking his version of child pornography into his senior project under the guise of enhancement. No, I’m lying. I screamed at him. I may or may not have called him a cunt. He tried to say that his picture was valid. Necessary. Don’t try and tell me that there was a point to the inclusion of her photo. If he had truly wanted to explain the aforementioned phenomenon, he could have easily found another photograph that didn’t exploit the death of a child, that didn’t perfectly align with his proven sexual deviances. Easily.
I admit, part of the reason I reacted to forcefully to his action was because of the photos be took of me junior year, I hated him and he deserved it. I was still angry, shocked, and upset, and to see that he hadn’t changed his ways or learned discretion upset me further. My outburst earned me a referral, the only blight on my otherwise perfect permanent record.
Since high school, I haven’t seen T. at all. Last I heard, he was in the northern part of the state. I used to obsessively check his MySpace to see if the photos vanished. His profile disappeared sometime during my freshman year of college. I don’t really think about it much. I still get angry, I still feel self-conscious wearing tank tops and shorts. At the risk of sounding like your mother: if some asshole puts photos of you (unsolicited) on his MySpace, please tell someone!
Mod M: arghargharg just reading this made me feel a little nauseous. To each his/her own kink, but flaunting these things in public and putting them in a presentation?! Absolutely disgusting. You had full rights to scream at him. What a horrible person.
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