I was always showing off in high school.
I'd come in with pink streaks in my hair, ripped up Sex Pistols T-shirt, pack of Marlboro Lights rolled up in my sleeve and a pint of Hiram Walker blackberry brandy in the hip pocket of my Levis.
I thought I was the queen of cool until I sat down too hard one day and almost cut myself a third butt cheek, a butt cheek soaked in brandy that is. OUCH!
I saw myself as the bastard child of Johnny Rotten and Joan Jett. The problem was, if you cracked open my leather jacket, underneath was a nice Jewish girl from New Jersey who really loved Barbra Streisand and who could be drunk under the table by your average 4-year-old.
When I was at parties, I'd pretend I was on my 10th drink because I didn't want anyone to know I was seeing triple on two screwdrivers.
I also pretended that I knew everything about sex and would brag about my exploits. I made a point to make out with older boys from other schools in front of as many of my peers as possible.
Everyone thought I was a full-scale horndog.
The truth of the matter was, I was a virgin for two years longer then anyone would have guessed.
I had no idea what to do with a penis and was too busy pretending I knew it all to ask any of my pals.
I tried to ask my mom about sex once. She said, "Slova! Losing your virginity really hurts unless you're married to a Jewish man. Then ... it doesn't hurt at all."
My pal Jenny talked me into joining a theatre group that was putting on a production of Cinderella to the music of David Bowie (rest in peace, Starman) and the B52s. I met a lot of older kids and 20-somethings, too. They were all into punk, or rather New Wave, which is what punk turned into after it started making money. That's where I met Cindy Butler.
She looked like a punk rock Audrey Hepburn with crayon red hair. She was the first woman I ever met who wore leather pants. She played bass guitar in a punk band called Jade, and she was cast as one of the evil stepsisters.
I thought she was just about the coolest person I'd ever met.
She was 6 years older then me and still wanted to hang out!
I would tell my parents I was going to the Jewish community center and would go to parties with Cindy instead.
One night after we'd been jumping around on the dance floor like two pogo sticks, I went home and had a dream that I kissed Cindy, like a real Hollywood kiss kinda dream.
I was perplexed. Lord was I naive.
"What does this dream mean," I asked my pal Jenny.
She just about laughed her ass off.
She probably wanted to scream, IT MEANS YOU LIKE GIRLS, DUMBASS!
But Jenny was not a showoff like me, so she bit her tongue and figured she'd let me find out for myself.
A few nights later I was in the bathroom with Cindy in a bar called Toad Hall. They were having a punk night.
I was lighting my eyeliner pencil then putting it on my lower lids. I've always had wet eyes, and it ran down my face. I thought it made me look a melting Cleopatra. Cindy was spiking up her red hair.
I said, " Hey, Cindy, last night I had the strangest dream. I dreamt I kissed you."
"Oh yeah," she said, and stuck her tongue in my mouth.
I was so stunned. I froze, but then as she fished around in my mouth I felt a lot more than my eyeliner melting. We made out hot and heavy for what felt like hours, but probably was 5 minutes.
I must have looked dazed because she took one look at me and laughed.
Then she went to the bar to get us drinks.
I was standing there in the middle of that skanky bathroom and something inside of me erupted from what felt like my soul and I yelled, "That's why!!"
That's why I had to bring Mrs. Mahon, my teacher in the first grade, apples.
That's why I had to watch The Bionic Woman every Wednesday night and even drew Lindsay Wagner's portrait and mailed it to her.
That's why I always wanted to be the cowboy on Halloween, never the cowgirl.
It felt like a slide projector of my entire life was going off full speed in that bathroom. I was sure the ceiling would fall down any second.
That's why I had to hide behind a wall of cigarette smoke and bad assery!
And mostly, that's why I always felt different.
After that, I decided I didn't care if anyone knew I loved Barbra Streisand and took to singing her songs out loud, and proud, badly and out of tune.
I mean think of the lyrics to People: "A feeling deep in your soul says you were half, now you're whole."
I think Barbra had it right.