You may remember from waaaay back this song called “Sk8er Boi” by Avril Lavigne. And you may say that I’ve developed a little obsession over it. Whenever I hear a song with a catchy melody and an awesome beat, I tend to overplay it for like a million times. Eventually I would get sick of it and stop playing it.
But not with Sk8er Boi. (If you haven’t heard it, I recommend it to you –> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MCS6Xojnty8)
It all started when I asked my crush out. Silly, I know. I should’ve known better. I mean, why would the most popular and cutest guy in the school want anything to do with me? I have tricked myself too much for the past few months. Tricked myself into believing he liked me, when really he’d wanted nothing to do with me.
Long story short, I asked him out through Skype. He said no. Meh, whatevs. I’m too good for that dipshit anyway.
That’s what I should say, right? That’s how I should act like, yes? To the answer for both questions, it’s yes and yes. I do act nonchalant and I do repeat stuff like that whenever the topic of him comes up. But am I truly feeling it? Nope. In fact, let me give you an overview on how I handled it. Oh, and one word before we proceed: Delusion.
Okay. Rejection hurts. Everyone tells you to move on, get over it and that life goes on. You should move on and get over. Life does go on. But that doesn’t mean it’ll go on enough to erase the memory of that stinging rejection.
I always act like I do not give a shit. Picked last by the team captain? Cool. Literary agent rejection slip? Fair enough. Rejected by the cutest guy in the school? Whatever.
But secretly – I’m going over the lyrics of Sk8er Boi in my head.
He was a boy
She was a girl
Can I make it any more obvious?
Here we have a bit of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Totally me. My crush was a boy, and I was a girl. Can she make it anymore obvious? Apparently she can.
He was a punk
She did ballet
What more can I say?
The gender associations are getting a little mixed up. Even though I’ve done ballet for seven years, I am not necessarily the “she” who is doing “ballet”. I’m the punk. My crush is the ballerina. You’ll find out why.
He wanted her
She’d never tell
Secretly she wanted him as well
I wanted him. I really did. I think he did like me at one point, but he never told me nor made it known to the world. I’m 99% sure that he was ashamed of liking me for whatever reason. (Who knows? I think he digs the athletic girls. Maybe I’m too geeky. I mean, I play the piano, I study hard, I read and write stories and also a little Jesus-freaked. You never throw me anything unless you want to drop it.)
But all of her friends
Stuck up their nose
And they had a problem with his baggy clothes
I hate most of his friends. They bullied me at one point and never made any effort to make amends. Ugh.
He was a skater boy
She said “See ya later boy”
He wasn’t good enough for her
He practically kissed my ass goodbye, and it really got me believing that I didn’t meet his expectations. If you haven’t noticed, me and Kevin switched gender roles. I’m the skater boy, he’s the snooty-ass ballet girl.
She had a pretty face
But her head was up in space
She needed to come back down to earth
These three lines describe him well. He’s considered “cute” and “hot”. BUT despite his appearance, his head wasn’t in the right. Even I knew this. He kept going for girls, expecting them to have a personality that matched their pretty face. But he’d always get disappointed when they don’t give him what he wants.
Five years from now
She sits at home
Feeding the baby,
she’s all alone
This is where things get a little complicated. We’re fast forwarding into the future, somewhere which I have yet to experience. Maybe I’ll be in university – a shit one like the University of Wollongong or perhaps I’ll sweet-talk my way into Yale. Perhaps I wouldn’t even take my HSC and end up flipping burgers at Maccas. There are like a million possibilities of what could happen, so who knows. I’ll leave that to God.
But here’s what we do know… and let me paint you a little picture. My crush is sitting in a shaggy apartment. He’s on a couch with peeling leather. The walls scream for renovation and he is constantly on the run from the landlord. The shine in his eyes, once so big and cute back in high school, is gone. He has a girl next to him, one of the ones whom flirted with him five years ago. Codename is Lila. She’s breastfeeding a baby, her eyes dull and lifeless.
She looks at him and whispers, “When will this be over?”
Kevin shrugs in the same cool way he used to in high school. But coolness alone couldn’t save them from their mistakes.
“I dunno. Wanna watch some TV?”
She turns on TV
And guess who she sees?
Skater boy rockin’ up MTV!
“Oh fuck,” He mutters. “That’s Anastasia Stand.”
“Wait. Didn’t we used to go to school with her?”
Kevin suddenly looks down at his hands, ashamed. He says all too quietly, “Yeah.”
In the midst of the paparazzi clamour on their small box set TV, the baby starts wailing. But even Lila is too drained to do anything about it. They all kept their eyes on the Skater Boy.
I have dreams, goals, ambitions, whatever. Yes, I most certainly do. But it is definitely not to sing my way on stage. (Does anyone even watch MTV these days??) I’m an alright guitar player, but a terrible singer. Trust me, the last thing I’ll want to do is “rock up MTV”.
She calls up her friends
They already know
And they’ve all got tickets to see his show
Avoiding Lila’s gaze, Kevin gets up from the couch. His iPhone was perched on the crappy wooden table next to a pile of unopened bills and bank statements. He scrolls through his large Contact’s list, most of the numbers untouched since graduation day. As he calls Elaine and Antonio, he feels a twinge of guilt. Back in the day, these two had bullied Anastasia relentlessly while he just stood back and laughed with them. And then rejected her, of course. Shit. What had he done?
“Hi Kevin,” Elaine answered in that annoying, flirty voice of hers.
“Sup dude,” Antonio says.
“Hey,” He pauses.
Skater Boy Anastasia was sauntering off the stage, waving at a crowd of admiring fans. “Um, remember Anastasia Stand? From high -”
“Yeah, man. I’m watching her on Channel Five right now,” Antonio cuts in. He sounds excited. “Me and Elaine were thinking of seeing her live show. We have an extra ticket. Wanna come?”
“We can brag on how we used to be in the same classes as her.” Elaine gushes.
Kevin’s unaware of the invitation. He couldn’t take his eyes off Anastasia. Puberty had hit her like a truck.
She tags along
Stands in the crowd
And looks up at the man that she turned down
“Fuck,” Kevin says for the second time that day. Of course, no one heard him over the roar of the crowd. This girl asked me out five years ago, he thought miserably. Why had I been such an idiot?
Now he’s a superstar
Slammin’ on his guitar
Does your pretty face see what he’s worth?
This. This is what I want to prove. My worth. God put me on this earth for a reason. One stupid rejection isn’t going to change the fact that I’m worth something. Even if that “something” is as small as a pebble on isolated gravel.
Sorry girl but you missed out
Well tough luck that boy’s mine now
We are more than just good friends
This is how the story ends
We go back to the fact that we’re in the near-far future. Will I be forever alone, or will a handsome hunk sweep me off my feet? We’re assuming that I find someone so much better than Kevin. We’ll call him Callum. He is singing for the rest of the song, but he may as well have been narrating it all from the beginning.
Too bad that you couldn’t see
See the man that boy could be
There is more than meets the eye
I see the soul that is inside
Although I seem like an awkwardly social loser with bad sport skills and a knack for procrastination, don’t forget about my personali –
Wait, never mind. My personality sucks too. LOL.
He’s just a boy
And I’m just a girl
Can I make it anymore obvious?
We are in love
Haven’t you heard
How we rock each other’s worlds?
So me and this Callum guy are happy together.
I’m with the skater boy
I said “See ya later boy I’ll be backstage after the show”
I’ll be at a studio
Singing a song we wrote
About a girl you used to know
This is the saddest line in the song, I think. Hey, Kevin. You had a chance and you blew it. Damn. I really wished we could’ve got together too, but now it’s too late.
I know the whole post has been gender puzzling but hopefully you get the gist.
Before you say anything, everything interperated is totally hypothetical. I may not even be that successful (“Yes, I heard you don’t want pickles on that burger, you can stop screaming. Now, uh… anything else?”) and Kevin might turn out just fine. Sometimes it’s fun to pretend. But there’s also something unhealthy about it, too. The more I think of it happening, the less it is to happen. This is what I’ve learned from the last fourteen years. That the less you assume, the more likely the chances.
Have I gotten over Kevin? Perhaps. My hurt fee fees may never go away completely, which is why I turn to Sk8er Boi as a stress-reliever. Sure, it’s stupid. But it’s the only way to sane my insane mind.
There’s something good… and refreshing about rejection. Yes, it hurts. I’ve been rejected plenty of times in both romantic relationships and the pursuit of a literary career. But you should use that rejection as a fuel to add to your, what I call, “motivation fire”. The more fuel, the more you’d want to plonk yourself at your desk and work your ass off.
Been rejected? Don’t get sad. Get ready. Because this your chance to show the world what you’re really made of.