After taking a class on Modernist writers , I was inspired by the purpose and passion with which they wrote; they had real beliefs and used writing to fight for what they believed in. This is piece is inspired and modeled after these writers.
The man was average. There was nothing extraordinary about his talents or elegant about his appearance. His smile was not captivating and his personality was not charming. He was not, however, ugly or boring or unskillful. He was, by all accounts, your average, everyday man.
All throughout high school the man had done well in his studies. He had finished with a 3.0 grade point average and participated in basketball and played trumpet in the band. He was usually able to accomplish what he desired, but the one thing that had seemed to slip through his grasp was Cindy. Cindy was not average. Cindy was a beautiful girl, vivacious and outgoing. She was charming and had wonderful posture, an odd trait that the man always somewhat admired. She had long brown hair that came down just below her shoulders, and big, dark brown eyes to match. She stood nearly six feet tall and carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew she was attractive.
Cindy transferred into the man’s high school at the beginning of his senior year and immediately captivated his attention. The way she floated from her locker to class in the morning reminded the man of the beautiful mythical creatures he had read about in the past. And the way she would sit in class, straight back and chest out, always seemed more appealing to the man than the numbers and letters randomly splayed out on the white board. The man had never felt this way before, and although he knew he never wanted to tell her something as cheesy as that, he knew he had to talk to her. Fortunately for the man, the homecoming dance was quickly approaching. The homecoming dance was, by all means, the perfect excuse for every boy to ask his new-school-year crush out on a first date. And after watering and feeding his courage like a young plant during those first few weeks of his senior year, the man’s courage began to bloom. And he knew, as he entered the school on that fateful Wednesday, that his life would never be the same.
He noticed Cindy standing at her locker with her friends almost immediately, as he did most days. But today was going to be different. Today was the day that his fantasies would become reality and his life would begin to change. The man approached Cindy with the confidence of a hunter aiming down the sites at his first deer and spoke.
“Hi, Cindy,” said the man.
“What?” said Cindy.
“Hi, Cindy,” said the man, his confidence a bit shaken in his crush’s apparent lack of hearing.
“No, I mean what do you want?” Cindy said with a slight chuckle as her friends rolled their eyes and left the two alone in front of Cindy’s locker.
“I just thought I’d say hi,” said the man. He had, unfortunately, not thought much about the path the conversation was going to take. And after his initial nerves had left him after the first line of dialogue he found them replaced with nerves that felt nearly the same, strange nerves that muddled his ability to carry on a normal conversation. “I had a question for you,” the man quickly added.
“And what would that be?” Cindy, very aware of where this conversation was headed, looked uneasily towards her friends who were waiting for her just down the hall in front of the door to first period algebra. “Can you make it quick? Class starts in a couple minutes.”
The man mustered up his courage, and as his chest swelled ever so slightly he asked Cindy, “Would you like to go to the homecoming dance with me? I think it would be a lot of fun.”
Cindy looked at the man with a strange irreverent coldness in her eyes, but mustered up as much politeness as she could and simply stated, “No.”
After awkwardly staring at each other for a few seconds, Cindy turned and walked toward her beckoning friends and disappeared into first period. The man slowly walked behind her, giving the appropriate amount of time needed to walk into a class behind the girl who had just rejected him. He plopped into his seat, and the rest of the day was a mishmash of feelings of self-pity and fantasies about a homecoming dance with Cindy.
The weeks pasted, as well as homecoming, but the man never fully recovered from the rejection he faced on that fateful day. He had tried to figure out why he was never able to “just get over the stupid girl” as his friends constantly told him. Maybe it was because, in his mind, she had become almost divine. Or maybe it was because he had spent so much time thinking about how happy he would have been as Cindy’s boyfriend. But the real reason the man was never able to get past Cindy’s disheartening rejection – the reason he knew deep down – was because those fantasies he began to play in his mind the day of his rejection never dissipated. In fact, they grew. And they became less about a life or relationship with Cindy and more about the brown hair, brown eyes, puffed out chest, and tall, slim figure the young girl boded.
Now, the man knew these thoughts were wrong. He had grown up in a Christian home and the Bible, with its many lessons, had been taught to him from the time he could hear and even before. His mom and dad had done all they could to raise a God-honoring young man in a culture they knew would only lead him in the opposite direction. His father, Earl, was the man’s model of faith and someone whom he had always looked up to, whether as a Christian, father, or hard worker. He was a large man who had worked all his life on the family farm. He had never taken more than one week off and that had been for a family vacation when the man was twelve years old. Earl was a loving man, although he had strange ways of showing it, and had always provided for the man and the rest of his family. The man knew that his father loved him and had always appreciated and admired his father’s work ethic and strong faith. Every night after dinner Earl would read from a devotional booklet and whenever the man needed help with something or had a question about life, his father was more than willing to speak. The man loved his father, and Earl loved his son.
The man’s mother, Anne, was just as loving as her husband, but showed it in all the stereotypical ways. When the man was feeling down, like the day after Cindy had rejected him, Anne always knew and was quick to whip up a batch of homemade cookies or brownies. She would listen intently to dinner devotions, and on those rare occasions when the man would come to her for advice, especially about women, she could barely contain her excitement and giddiness as she sat down with her son. The man loved his mother, and Anne loved her son.
But although the man knew these thoughts were wrong, and although he knew he could talk to either of his parent’s about them, he did not. And whether he was embarrassed or scared or ashamed is not the point. The point is that he did not talk. And as he continued to not talk, the thoughts grew and began to take on a life of their own. And as the thoughts became lust, and as the lust paired itself with actions, the man knew he was in trouble. Lust began to take over his life and Cindy was no longer the problem – all girls were. The man found himself thrust into his own twisted, perverted imagination at the drop of a dime. Whether it was tight clothing, a cute smile, or a picture in a magazine didn’t matter; it all ended the same way. Of course his friends couldn’t really tell much of a difference. The man was the same on the outside as he had always been. But on the inside the man was fighting a battle the likes of which he had never experienced. He was torn between his Christian faith, which explicitly spoke against his particular thoughts and actions, and those very thoughts and actions which tempted him with satisfaction and joy. And the man, torn and battle-worn as he was, graduated. And the man headed off to college.