jennifer_anderson peyton Also see: Slut, Dick_Sucker, Whore ***Note: I didn't write this for this column. I wrote it for me, but I decided to share. I'm military, so if some of the references mentioned you can't understand, it's okies.. The lesson is here is to make the world know what the bitch did. Due to her leaving, and the increasing urge by my psyche to forget her utterly, I shall permanently record in the annals of my computer the events involving and pertaining to one Jennifer Rae Anderson. Again, as in all these known incidents, Jennifer was very pretty. She had brown hair and eyes, and was extremely attractive to me. She was a lot like Summer in her looks, but was definitely not in disposition. I think that Jennifer was truly born a wholesome person, and had potential to be the woman to solve every pain I've ever had. Had she not been infected with the sick disease of human self preservation, she would have been that person. With Jennifer, I have more doubt about my own account of things than with anyone. If Jennifer never had any feelings for me, as I suspect is the truth, she is the most powerful black widow that I have ever had the privilege to encounter. She made me feel so much. She took from me so much. And in the end she left me with so little. I cannot truly tell you the truth about me and Jen. All I can tell you are the things as I remember them. And even that is becoming increasingly vague, like the mist-shrouded events from a dream. I met Jennifer at Keesler. She was in the AWACS career field, a field whose women were notorious for being easy, and just that kept me at bay from her. I thought Jennifer was very attractive, because she was. She flirted with me every now and then, and always kept me interested. But I knew Jennifer was sleazy. I’d seen her with many guys around, and every time she was always kissing or hugging them. I was a road guard marching to school, and I’d always talk about her loud enough for her to hear to the other road guards. And even though I knew all this, I still wanted her. I remember a particular evening at the Sports Pub, with her in between the legs of another guy, hugging him and kissing him. It hurt. God did it hurt. But all that has become a blur now, the time leading up to us getting together. I know that she and I eventually got together, why and how I don’t know. It just seems that fate wanted it that way, and so we were. Jennifer never really seemed to be interested in me, until one night in front of her dorm I finally told her how I felt. And she cried, and I believed she cared. I dropped all defenses at that point, and against the advice of every friend and instinct I had, I let her into my heart. Jennifer got repinged the week before we were scheduled to go out. I figured the date was over, but she still said we would go out. She paraded out into the open in her own clothes, and was caught. I will go into that later, but first I will tell of that night. Stevens was driving us. We went to Outback, her and I and Stevens. She was in her best clothes, and I in mine, and things felt different somehow. I was convinced the date was going to be a disaster. But then, and the booth at Outback, she wrapped her arm around my thigh. And in that, it was the best time I’d had since arrival at Keesler. We were close then, and we just looked at each other and kissed, right there in the booth. And I was so in love. I took her out to the long pier around the base. We stood on the end, in each other’s arms, talking about us and how we wanted things to be. She’d later tell me that was the best time she ever had with me; the best time we’d share the entire relationship. It was the peak, however insignificant from a glance, but living it was breath taking. Ada and I were dating openly then, and Jennifer was my mistress. She had a boyfriend of sorts named Schmidt, and she’d slept with him she said. Schmidt was a loser, a troublemaker, someone who had no ambition but to be that loser. I spent all the time with Jennifer I could, even with Ada and I dating. We would meet at the dining hall parking lot, me in my roommate’s car, and just drive. Once she even changed in the car, and we drove off base to eat. We just drove. We parked along the beach, and just talked. You might ask why we never did anything else, but there was a problem. Jennifer and I didn’t have the electricity in our touch that should have been there. The pull wasn’t there, the sheer chemistry of it. And so she never allowed anything more than light kissing. And then I graduated. I cried silent tears on the drive home, thinking, rather knowing that she cared nothing for me, and that I’d never see her again. But she was not to let me go so easily, and my sentence was not yet up. She called me at home on leave, something I’d never thought she’d do, and told me she missed me. She constantly told me how much she actually missed me. And so when she offered to let me come down to Keesler before my flight and spend the night with her, I cancelled my plans with Ada to do so. I went there, and fell into her arms, and spent an entire day talking and kissing ever so lightly. She told me many things, one of which that she had slept with Schmidt again when I was home on leave. That single comment would cave my chest for many nights in the future. I never got to be him in that aspect, I never got to know real intimacy with her. All I got was a cold window pane, and the knowledge that warmth was somewhere, although I would never find it. I tried to pry from her if I should wait for her at Misawa, but I never got any answer, just a blank look and a “I don’t know.” There were many things of importance that happened that night, but I won’t be able to put them here due to mass quantity of them, and the fact that my memory has failed me so much about her since then, and I would not be able to recall everything if I tried. The most significant of those though was I was trying to get out her true feelings for me. I told her to tell me what she wanted, no matter what she thought my feelings would be. I kept telling her to not care about my feelings, and she finally screamed out, “I don’t care about your fucking feelings.” I would reflect later that was the only true statement of the evening. We went out that night, and I was that guy then. I was the guy my entire life I’d wanted to be. I had the girl I wanted. I was in heaven for one night, in bliss. I didn’t spend the night as planned. I left around eleven, due to the fact that we’d grown tired of each other, and I wasn’t going to press her more. As I left she started crying again, and told me she missed me already, and how much she wanted to see me again. I made a dreadful mistake though; I told her again I loved her. She didn’t respond. My final memory of Jennifer Anderson is her standing in the doorway looking at me, tears in her eyes, as I turned the corner. The song that goes “You wanted more, more than I could give, more than I could offer, and I life I could not live” was playing on the radio as I got into my car. She’d put that at the end of a letter she once wrote me. Fate was telling me of that to come. I arrived at Misawa, and immediately sent E-mail to her account. I waited for a week or so, and got the response that she just wanted to be friends now, and was sorry for leading me on. This final insult was too much to bear. I knew what had happened; I’d been replaced. Another Nunnelly or Schmidt had come along, and my time endlessly rubbing the magic lamp had ended. So I fired off the most hateful, burning vengeful mail I could muster, telling her that I wished I’d never hear from her again at all. So she responded by saying, “I just wanted to be your friend before I gave all of myself to you. But I see now that you don’t want that, so I will grant your wish. – J” I knew that was a lie. A horrible lie meant to do one thing, hurt me. So I fired off another hateful mail, this one with no response. So I wrote an apology. No response. And another apology, and still no response. To date, there has been no response. She’s lost to me now, although truly she was never mine. I don’t know what to say in conclusion. This was a lost battle in every possible way of examination. I loved her, and she didn’t love me. I wanted everything, gave her everything, and got nothing. I wept over her, and I wanted to die when she left. But I didn’t die. I live save the part of my heart that’s hers, and will always be. It lies now in the cemetery of all the loves I’ve had, resting in a cold that in resided in while living. Even in death her memory turns like a knife in my chest. I think of her fucking Schmidt and I shudder, and sometimes I collapse in storms of tears. I see her face, I feel her lips and hands, and I remember. I take another sip of my sweetest of poisons, her memory; all that I have of hers now is a class ring that’s nailed to my wall. A silver monument to the near greatest of pains that man can know, that of hope given falsely, and a perpetual broken heart. - Addendum – July 2, 2000 I must apologize to you, the reader for this. My writing here is sub-standard as I look over it, I think that the emotion and the diluted and conflicting emotions here might have played upon that a bit. 010107 ... silentbob So has she responded yet? and you felt bad that she was with schmidt. did ada feel bad that you were with her? i mean, you really can't blame jennifer too much, you seem to be just as, ya know, premiscuous. did you ever apologize to ada for leading her on? 010917 ... Syrope im not sure that makes her a slut as much as it just makes you jealous and a little desperate. not tryin to judge you, i just dont think she should be called a slut for that. she was open with you, you knew what you were getting into...i've done the same thing you have before, given too much...it sucks. 020330 ... just i was hurt too, in a way such as this by a person that believed his own lies he told me that he loved me after 2 weeks i believed him he broke up with me 6 weeks later i was HYSTERICAL he still called though then i would try to heal -and then i would wake up in the morning, after about 3 months of no contact with him (this reacurred for 2 years), and think- "wow! i feel happy today, l feel like i am actually getting over him" and have a great day -I shit you not, he would call, that same night he would call i have moved on now, i don't see him and i have told him not to call *i think by using the word slut (the worst thing you can call a girl) it expresses the hate and hurt and ache 030114 what's it to you? who go blather from