The Walk Home...

Ok. So this is the third in a row of my self absorbed and depressing entries. Next few will be more fun and whimsical I promise.

1999. I was in high school. Year ten to be exact. I’d taken one of the main roles in the annual school musical. It was a comedy set in the 60’s called “Charades.” The story involved secret spy stuff and two bungling KBG agents, Dimitri and Olga. I played Dimitri.
Being quite sheltered in many ways, I actually knew very little about The Cold War. I hadn’t learned about it in high school and managed to avoid almost every film, tv show, book etc about the whole thing. It’s funny that I actually first learned about the cold war thanks to landing this role. But that’s pretty typical of my tunnel vision. I had borrowed an audio tape from the local “Doctor Who,” fanclub. It was a radio play by BBV which was basically a knockoff of Doctor Who starring “The Professor,” and “Ace.” (These knockoffs floated around for quite a while, during the years when the show was off air, until Big Finish secured the license to make Dr.Who radioplays. They’re still going to this day and I highly recommend checking them out at www.bigfinish.com
Anyway, this radio drama I’d borrowed just happened to have a Russian character in it as played by Mark Gatiss, I believe. I spent all weekend cooped up in my bedroom, listening to this characters scenes and slowly repeating them. I’d actually already got the part despite not having auditioned in a Russian accent- you simply did your own audition and they decided which part was best for you. I remember when we all sat down for that first read through, after I read my first line everybody just stopped silent. They all turned to me with their mouths hanging open in shock. Oh christ, I thought. I must sound awful.
‘Daniel Burnett IS Dimitri!’ Mr. Wong, the drama teacher called out, pointing at me with both arms. Whew. They seemed like me!
So I got this part and ended up spending most days at rehearsal after school. The cast and crew was pretty enormous, but most of them had tiny parts. So between scenes you’d have tons of people from high school just hanging out. I’ll never forget this time in my life, because it was the only venture outside of school I’d ever managed to do. (I had a disastrous run with Tae Kwon Doe and Lacrosse, which I’ll have to tell you about later.) Usually I’d just run home after school and try to mind my own business. I certainly didn’t interact with many people outside my small, mostly geeky group. This drama production was mostly filled with really nice people who seemed genuinely impressed with my acting. To this day I still believe I can do comedy. I understand it. I feel the beats and the timing. I’m told I can be quite witty, but that’s for you to decide.
I learned a lot during this time. I’ve always been uptight, shy and stressed out. The drama teacher was one of the most laid back people I’ve ever met. Perhaps too laid back, but none the less, it did me a world of good. I was paired with somebody called Sarah who played Olga. She was in year 12 and spent a lot of time telling me to chill out. Relax and just have fun. It’s a lesson I’ve been trying to heed ever since.
I remember that kindness and the valuable life lessons learned from this time. But I also remember something else, which has haunted me ever since
One of the girls in the play was my age. We’ll call her Jayne, because I think it’s rude to name names. Jayne knew me from primary school. We weren’t friends. But we knew of one another. We sort of just stayed away from each other. She knew my past reputation. When I came to high school I was desperate to lose my rep from primary school of being the bedwetting loser. I was nice to everybody and spent most of the time just trying to keep a low profile and stay out of everybody’s way. This acting thing was a godsend because people love somebody who can make them laugh. And I can always make people laugh.
Jayne was in the play, but she had an extremely minor role. She lived very close to me. On this particular day rehearsals ran quite late and the sun had started to set. She didn’t have anybody to walk home with. As we filed out of the gymnasium after end of rehearsal, I remember her coming up to me. I could see the thought process going through her head as she spoke.
‘You live near me,’ she said. ‘It’s getting dark.’ She frowned as her brain mulled this over. She was weighing up which would be worse. Being kidnapped and raped on the way home or having to walk home with me.
It took her about a minute to decide.
‘Fine,’ she finally said. ‘Do you mind if I walk with you?’
‘Sure, I don’t mind,’ I said. Now, her attitude probably makes her sound like some pretty little thing who treats people this way. No. She was an extremely plain looking girl. Only people like me got this kind of treatment.
Something you need to understand is that I had already reached the point in my life where I felt completely alien. When a young man meets a young girl, there’s usually something niggling in the back of their minds. You weigh each other up a little bit. Maybe I could date this person? Maybe they might be interested. Who knows? This is the process of a normal human. But I was not normal. My mind went something like this:
This person is disgusted by my mere existence. She has to occasionally put up with me, which must be an awful thing to have to endure. Christ, I feel sorry for her. Of course she’d never be remotely interested.
So you see, such a thing never crossed my mind. To this day I still make that assumption. When I meet and talk a girl I simply assume they will never be interested. Because it’s true. (I was proven wrong only once when somebody asked me out.)
‘I don’t like you,’ Jayne said.
‘I uh.. See.’
‘I mean I don’t like, like you,’ she added.
‘Right,’ I said.
‘I’m not trying to.. You know.’
‘Yes. Of course not.’
‘This is just walking home. So I’m safe,’ Jayne said.
‘Quite,’ I said.
‘This isn’t some.. Ploy, for us to spend time together,’ she said.
‘Uh, yeah. Ok.’

So I walked her home. The walk took about half an hour. Every five minutes or so we’d repeat that conversation, more or less.
‘I don’t like you. This isn’t… anything. It’s just walking.’ And so forth. She didn’t get it. She couldn’t grasp that I considered the possibility of anybody, not just her, being even remotely interested in me in such a manner was about as likely as a squadron of talking sausages to start swooping down from above, complete with bat wings, top hats and monocles.
But it wasn’t enough to just say it. Not just once or twice. The thought that I was would make this outrageous assumption was so repugnant to her, must have offended her so greatly, that she had to keep drilling it into me on this walk. Over and over and over and over. She had to make this point; it was clearly imperative to her. Can you imagine how strongly she must have felt about that? What kind of disgust would cause somebody to ram this point home so violently time and time again?
This is the kind of feeling I invoke in other people. I always knew it, but I’ve never forgotten that day. You know what else? I’ve never asked anybody out. Ever. Whenever I’ve thought about doing it and nearly worked myself up to making the plunge, my mind takes me back to that day, with that girl, who worked so tirelessly to make that simple point.

Song: Wide Open Road by The Triffids.