This book is based on true accounts of the author, and it is important to note that all names mentioned have been altered to ensure the confidentiality and privacy pf the individuals involved.
A Note from The Author:
We've all experienced heartbreaks, loves, and memorable moments. Yet, one event has had a profound impact on me - a love that left me without closure. Until recently, I lived with no regrets, but this experience has been a lingering burden. A few years ago, I realized that my fear of abandonment had been driving me to sabotage relationships. I believed love always ends in heartache, so I'd end things prematurely, thinking I was sparing myself pain. But I had no valid reason for doing so. This self-destructive pattern stemmed from a deep-seated belief that happy endings are mere fiction. Lack of closure has fueled this toxic mindset, making me realize that an abrupt end to love can be more traumatizing than a lifelong regret. The pain is deeper due to unclear blame, outcomes, and decisions. By sabotaging relationships, I not only robbed myself of potential happiness but also denied my past partners the chance at a fulfilling relationship. This experience has been the source of my negativity, and I'm now ready to share it with you. In this experimental yet true book series, I'll release new portions every one to two weeks. Please note that only names have been changed to protect privacy, while locations are based on real places. I hope you'll join me on this journey of self-discovery and growth. Also, please keep in mind that the following series I will be updating are compiled each into a single book but are not in any order for your reading pleasure, and to rid you of any possibility of boredom with my pathetic life!
Love & Other Indoor Sports, Lu Lucy
(BOOK 1) PART 1: “OUR FIRST ENCOUNTER” It was June, at the end of my 11th grade year at Tracy High, a continuation school for teens that were either kicked out of school for disciplinary reasons, the student being a teen parent as the school provided daycare for children of students, or being excessively behind on credits which was the case for me as I seemed to enjoy excessively ditching since I started high school. Don’t get me wrong, Tracy is an awesome school, the school and its teachers provide students a better chance to graduate or simply make up credits to continue back at their original high school to graduate. Tracy also gives graduating students a high school diploma as opposed to a GED. Back to that memorable day at lunch, I was freshly kicked out of Artesia High School the semester prior and was still considered “the new girl” as well as “the tall loud Asian chick” as for a small period of this time I was prescribed Prozac which made me unnaturally happy. The prescribed anti-depressant contributed to my voice range: loud and overly excited. I was taken off the prescription after a few months as I attacked a
security staff at Artesia and claimed to have blacked out when it happened, but in all honesty those few months while I was on Prozac might have been the happiest time for me in my life, unfortunately it wasn’t real. I was blessed when I was a 16-year-old, I was not easily embarrassed by things but that doesn’t mean I didn’t do embarrassing things; what saved my social life was my humor and being funny I confidently have always known I am. High school days were an era in which I thought I knew everything and thought that I was usually always right. So, I did not see myself as disrespectful or rebellious, but rather a young woman who had reasons to fight for things that were important, but what those important things were, let’s just say I still scratch my head trying to figure that one out. Today, in present time I am now 40 years old, I finally realize what a dumbass I was. Back then, I was 5”11 with a body like I worked out, well I did used to run track and furthered my track skills as I specialized in hurdles - like jumping over coffee tables and chairs as I ran from my mom whenever she came into sight with a slipper or something of the sort in her hand. Ultimately, the body I had THEN, man I WISH I had that same body today.
This period in my life was not entirely all about this guy I swore I was in love with, but it was probably the first and maybe only time I believed in “love at first sight” or that saying of someone “sweeping you off your feet” type of situation. Adrian’s moment of entering my life transcends many other important events, not all because of him but if I had to break the whole thing down, in a way I could say that this was Adrian’s time in my life. This day I met Adrian, it happened to be a sunny day during lunch on what was a seemingly typical and uneventful day at school. It was also the last day of the school year, lunch time on the small quad I seen all the seniors gathering near the front gate, both seniors who were still attending the school and the seniors that had finished early. It was then I saw him, my first time ever being able to put the name to a face. Adrian was an early graduate; I had heard about him many times from other girls at school’s mouths. I was new but if I had a dollar for each time some infatuated girl in class spoke of him, I wouldn’t have had financial worries to last a whole school year. Adrian Ramirez was popular among my grade and higher. All the girls were on his jock and in that moment of first ever laying eyes on him, I began to understand why. He was gorgeous, he had ivory fair skin, he was dressed neatly like a pretty boy,
his hair perfectly held with a perfect amount of gel, besides his clothing style, doing nothing other than standing there he exhibited such an evident amount of swag and style. He was Mexican, or so I heard, but he could have passed for almost a white boy that was maybe mixed with a little bit of Spanish. My ability to remember all these details at my age now, is bizarre and is embarrassing to share, but I have always been a person who trusts the honest route with my thoughts and situations, unless you're a cop asking questions even then I try my best not to have to lie, I just shut the hell up but those are stories set for another book in my series. That day at lunch, I was staring over at Adrian so much that I felt I was going crazy because I swore, he looked my way and started smiling at me. Upon catching his gaze, I quickly looked away. “Damn! Who is that?!” I said to my homeboy Valente as we stood in the corner diagonally across from the guy that was getting all the girls’ attention. Valente lived a few blocks down from me and he seemed to be the only one of my buddies from my usual group I could find at lunch that day. “Who? You talking about the homeboy, Adrian?” Valente replied quietly yet amused, I never showed interest in any guy during high school, I hung out with them, and they loved
laughing when they were blazing with me afterschool, but I generally thought all the boys at school uninteresting and boring. This being the first time Valente heard me express interest in a guy, he let out a low chuckle and then the bell rang, it meant the end of lunch and no more staring at this beauty called Adrian. I let out a groan realizing it was time for class again. We started walking back to class and Adrian recognized my buddy I was walking with as we neared him. “Valente!” Adrian bellowed so Valente would hear him, “Come over here!” Valente walked over to him, and I awkwardly stood waiting for him at the entrance to the hallway, it was a quick minute or two as the two talked and then laughed as they each patted each other on the back departing ways. Valente walked back towards me to head to class, and I realized I was looking at Adrian again (dammit) so I forced myself to continue on my walk towards the small corridor to get to class. “He was asking about you,” Valente stated as he interrupted my deep chain of thought and then said, “Adrian was asking who you were,” followed by a friendly shove and laugh. “Shut the fuck up!” I started, “Don’t fucking lie to me!”
I started blushing at that moment, I rolled my eyes and pretended to not care but deep down I secretly hoped that what Valente said was true. We were almost late for class, so I didn’t even get the chance to run by the expected questions like “what did he say exactly” and so forth. I was dying to ask. Later, I figured out that Valente wasn’t messing with me. Later that day, one of my long-time best friends, nicknamed Tweety and an exotic beauty of Vietnamese American descent that lived in the Northside of Long Beach in the old neighborhood I was raised in and recently moved from, stopped by my home to surprise me. Although I made a lot of friends at Artesia High and Tracy, all my friends since the sandbox days were in Long Beach at Jordan High. School was never a struggle, but it seemed that I like to force myself to struggle, but I still found ways to make school a blast for me, but to be honest my high school days probably were more of a struggle for my father than it ever was for me.
PART 2: HIGH SCHOOL IN LONG BEACH Jordan High, where I perfected the art of doing absolutely nothing! Who needs algebra when you can master the skill of skipping school without getting caught? I mean, I was a straight-A student, but somehow, smoking cigarettes and marijuana at someone's pad while their parents were at work seemed like a better use of my time. I was like a rebel without a cause, minus the cool leather jacket and decent grades. But, of course, my truancy caught up with me, and I got unenrolled. I had to bring my dad to reenroll me, which was basically like signing my own death warrant. I lied to him about why he needed to come in, because let's be real, I wasn't about to give him a heads up on the ass-whooping that awaited me. I mean, I'd seen 'The Belt' in action before, and I wasn't eager to become its next victim. That walk home from school was the longest, most agonizing journey of my life. I was preparing myself for the worst, practicing my 'I'm sorry, Dad' face and perfecting my 'I won't do it again' tone. But, in hindsight, maybe I should've just taken the whooping and saved myself the trouble of growing up to be a slightly dysfunctional adult. Just kidding... kind of.
I still recall the look my father gave me in the school office when he learned why he was summoned that morning. The walk home was excruciatingly long, as fear sank deep into my bones, anticipating the consequences. I expected the usual hours of yelling, accompanied by disciplinary actions, including the dreaded 'Belt' (capitalized because it was a household name). That walk humbled me; I steeled myself for the impending punishment, even rehearsing how I might cry if needed. Some might label our household's disciplining style as child abuse, but as an adult, I believe that, in moderation, a spank can be effective. However, it should never be excessive, habitual, or relied upon. Our household's approach was simply a way of life; my siblings and I were never hit without reason. We always received warnings, but children often push boundaries, and I was notorious for testing limits. That day was the longest day of school EVER, and not only that but after school it was the longest walk home EVER! I dragged my feet walking home, it was almost as if I forgot how to walk; I marveled at how that very day I found myself to be completely fascinated with every bit of trash I walked past, stopping to read ingredients on empty bags of chips thrown on the sidewalk, investigating what soda can was flattened at the curb, appreciating the sights of every growing dandelion, grass
and weed that popped out of the cracks of the sidewalks the entire walk home that day. Fortunately, and ironically, it wasn’t that bad at all when I got home. I think my dad was amused at my little stunt of acting like I didn’t know why he was needed that day at the office. To my surprise I didn’t get a Filipino beat down as I expected. When I finally came home and braced myself for what was to come, my dad met me at the kitchen and just shook his head at me and asked if I had eaten yet. My daddy was the only one in my life that always made sure I wasn’t hungry, and I always believe that to be because he was forced to grow up always hungry as he lived a poor and very sad childhood in the Philippines. I miss my daddy and will always miss him. My father passed away in 2007, a little over six years after this part in my life took place.
Back to that memorable day of a chance meeting, my best friend Tweety surprised me at my house that afternoon as she had just got her license and her brother’s old car too. I moved to Lakewood from Long Beach the summer before, leaving behind my 3 best friends, Katie Walters, Minh Lim and Tweety Nguyen; I had known Katherine and Tweety since kindergarten when we went to Starr King Elementary.
Surprised and happy to see her, we
chatted and caught up on the things I had missed since my move and then she told me to go with her to grab some food. I suggested Jack-in-the-Box, which was one of the closest fastfood places around my house; coincidentally Adrian lived down the street from Jacks too. While we waited for our food, I mentioned the incident that happened to me at lunch with Valente and Adrian and mentioned he lived a few blocks from where we were at. Tweety asked if I knew exactly where he lived and since I had a girlfriend that lived directly behind Adrian’s house, I admitted that of course I knew where he lived. As we headed out of the drive-thru she turned and started heading the opposite way from my house. Not paying much attention to anything other than pulling the lettuce out of my chicken sandwich, she drove right to his block. Upon turning on his street I seen him out standing next to his car talking on a
cordless phone and I realized what Tweety was doing, I frantically felt my eyes dart left and right with the sight before me, I wanted to jump out the window, but I couldn’t do that, so I closed my eyes and prayed that she didn’t stop. What did my old faithful best girlfriend do?!
She STOPPED.
Well, there was a stop sign right in front of his house, so we had to stop regardless but she put the car in park and began unwrapping her cheeseburger and rolled her eyes at me when she seen my panic. “I am going to eat my burger,” she said annoyed at the way I was acting. She stopped right in front of his house, and I felt him come close to my side of the car, then felt him right at my window. He was still talking on a cordless phone, and I heard him end the conversation with whomever it was and knew it from hearing the beep of the phone followed by dead silence outside and in the car. His soft and incredibly beautiful laughter broke the silence, as he subsequently carried on asking questions about how our day was going and such. I kept my eyes down as Tweety answered all his small talk and then I heard him ask a question that literally made my heart fall right into my foot upon hearing it; in this very moment, I struggled hard with the
stinging behind my eyes because stupidly, I wanted to cry suddenly. It got quiet again for about a minute, I noticed and so I had to scream silently at myself and from in my head to look up and see what was going on (by the way, the screaming in my head also included a bunch of foul words like “chicken shit”, “dumb bitch” and “idiot”. I’m sure not everyone has thoughts like this inside his or her own head, but my self-pep-talking seriously dishes nothing other than tough love. “So… um, can I get your number or not?” Adrian asked this question, and it was what almost put me in tears upon having heard it. Adrian then started leaning further into the car at my window. I was devastated although not at all surprised. Of course he would ask for Tweety's number; she was beautiful, and I was just an awkward looking thing. This type of scenario was how things usually happened for me so I pretended to not hear anything to remain unscathed by it all; I pretended in my head that I wasn’t even in the car, I wanted to die of embarrassment and heartbreak and wished teleportation was a possibility but of course that was not the case.
The only logical plan I was able to formulate was to sit quietly and act not present until we left Adrian’s block. That was my plan, until Tweety hit my arm. “Uh hello Louise?! He’s talking to you!” Tweety exclaimed even more annoyed with me. I slowly looked at her, and seen she was eating her burger and not caring that Adrian was there. Evidently, I was the only one who thought he was some kind of beautiful god gracing the world with his presence. I lifted my head still moving slowly, then, as I started to look to the right with only my eyes, I seen that he was leaning all the way in the car. Adrian had practically positioned himself to make it obvious he was talking to me. This was the very first interaction between Adrian and I; his gaze met mine and he smiled at me, it was the same smile I wasn’t sure was for me that he flashed my way at lunch earlier in school that day. I melted all over that car seat, or at least that’s how I felt. Everyone at my new school had known Adrian Ramirez since elementary school. When I first moved to the area, I was quick to learn how all my classmates typically grew up together and had known each other since their sandbox days. Despite being new, I never felt like an outcast. Being “the new girl” gave me
an advantage, something I didn’t quite have at my last high school. The advantage for me was the attention along with the opportunity for a fresh start, meaning whomever I wanted to be known as was entirely up to me. I was what they called “new booty” which added curiosity among my classmates to want to get to know me, they all also loved laughing at all the crazy shit I would talk in and out of class. I took the advantage and decided to truly just be myself, which my old school knew nothing of. I made myself far from the little shy, oversensitive loner I was in Long Beach, an identity that had been branded by my peers since elementary school and was never able to grow out of. Versus whom I was perceived to be by the people at my old high school, I was pleased. At 16 years old, I had just started to become comfortable with myself and my physical appearance. Do not get me wrong, I am not swearing to be as fine as a lot of other girls my age were, but being different because I wasn’t from the area contributed to the appreciation people had for me and my looks. I started to take compliments for what they were and started to realize that I had at least a decent body the summer before, not from my own opinion because I had always been insecure about my looks, but 16 had brought a major game changer: my looks and the attention, so I finally started
embracing the idea that I wasn’t as bad looking as I thought. I realized my height wasn’t freakish, after all, supermodels did have height like mine. Despite knowing all that, I never had the balls to even entertain becoming a model. The boost of my self-confidence brought me to embrace myself in the best way possible and I did the smartest thing I could think of, at that time: I skinny dipped at friends’ pool parties, flashed my ass and boobs out car windows, and crazy, feral activities like it. No, I am not proud of this, but I am here to share my truth and will share no lies. My new best friend Jen, who was also new to my school, was the first junior to get a car (I was the 2nd) and every day after school, we drove past all the kids walking home from Artesia High with me hanging out the passenger window or the sunroof of her new red Honda Civic, and when I would do this, I was flashing whatever body part I was able to expose. Stupid, yes very much so but I was 16 and not too wise as I believed myself to be. I was obviously immature but that’s a teenager for you. My actions never came out like making me some kind of ho, my goofiness and lack of giving any guys action helped that. My main goal was always to make everyone laugh and to this day it still is. I tell good jokes; I am always quick witted and good with comebacks; I made any environment bearable no matter how
boring or dreaded, with my sense of humor. I, Lou was the “funny and loud Asian girl”, and that was a classification I could live with and still very much contend with.
PART 3: FALLING HARD
As I reflect on my time with Adrian Ramirez, one crucial detail stands out - one that I was oblivious to, despite the entire student body being aware. Adrian was in a committed relationship, having been with his girlfriend for seven years. I didn't know this at first, but when I eventually found out, it was too late. I had already fallen deeply for him, and my emotions had reached a point of no return. Looking back, I realize I was in denial, refusing to acknowledge the reality of his situation. My feelings had become so entwined with the idea of us being together that I chose to ignore the truth, setting myself up for a potentially devastating outcome. The denial was easy to maintain because ignoring the fact he had a girlfriend was effortless, as she was never brought up by him. After all, how could he have a girlfriend when he treated me like his only girlfriend? Being with Adrian was the only time I never felt insecure or worried about him seeing other girls, and I didn't even worry about him seeing his actual girlfriend. Adrian would call me every day, day and night. We would talk for lengthy periods of time almost every call. He would
call me at my afterschool job, which I never gave him the number to; he looked it up himself after I mentioned I got a job at Omni Video just to keep busy, I didn't need to work for money, as my daddy spoiled me. My favorite calls were his late calls while he was bored at work. We would see each other half of the week, which was more than fine for me, and it was like that for months. One school night, he called me late and wanted to come over to "talk." I told him that was fine, but I remembered the seriousness of his voice as it had me worried for the first time ever. I felt like this was where he would end things with me to try and change his ways and be faithful to his girlfriend, whom he had been with since middle school. Despite my happiness, I never believed I would be the one he chose, and I knew we weren't going to be a forever thing. I was rolling with the punches and enjoying our time together, not thinking about when it would end. When Adrian arrived, we sat in his Toyota SUV, and he told me his grandfather, whom he was very close to, had passed away. I saw the sadness in Adrian's light brown eyes that night, and his vulnerability touched my heart. My heart ached for him; I didn't know how to make him feel better, so I tried my best to empathize with what he was feeling.
Not knowing what to do, I just wanted to love him in whatever way he would let me. In that moment, I realized I truly loved him – the way he made me feel and our unique connection. I had no words to give Adrian, but I had my arms to comfort him and my heart to love him. At that time, I had no experience with grieving, as I had yet to lose a loved one. When I lost my father years later, this memory replayed in my head, as I had to mourn alone. That night, Adrian confided in me with a vulnerability that has stayed with me to this day. It was a genuine moment that humanized him in my eyes. I had admired him from afar, like many others, but in that instant, I saw him as more than just a perfect entity - I saw him as a real person with flaws and emotions. It was a surreal experience, especially for a young and naive heart like mine. The next day, I couldn't shake off the thought that he should have been sharing his grief with his girlfriend, not me. Yet, he never mentioned her, leaving me wondering if she was just a myth. Little did I know this would become a crucial point in our story. What drew me to Adrian initially was his captivating looks, but it was his personality that won my heart. His quick wit, humor, and playful cockiness made me laugh and feel so much more
alive than I already was. I loved how he would try to act tough, only to laugh at himself when I called him out on it. Our conversations flowed effortlessly, like a dance of discovery. So, despite Adrian and I experiencing what I thought was a deep connection, we still didn't exactly hit it off right away. He ghosted me after our first date, and I was like, "Okay, cool, I'll just go get locked up for six months then." Ok, not exactly, he called me, and we were supposed to go out again, but he never showed up. I sat outside on the porch waiting for him for over 2 hours and probably would have waited longer if my father hadn’t found me still sitting there which made him upset enough to yell at me to go inside. But seriously, rejection sucks, and I went a little wild. I started partying with some lit girls, running away from home, and making some questionable life choices – like driving a stolen car while super high. When the cops showed up, I was moving slower than a TikTok algorithm update. I mean, I was so slow, I think the officer was like, "Girl, are you okay? Do you need a snack or something?" Ok so that’s not true either but it might as well have happened! The directions the sheriffs were shouting at me with the K-9 unit on hand barking and the helicopter circling above after pulling me over, let’s just say
it was a very slow apprehension and mostly because I did not know my left from my right. I told the cops the two buddies with me in the car that was stolen knew nothing (lies) and so they got to go home fine. It wasn’t necessary for all of us to go in, I was already on probation for a GTA charge and having co-defendants drags your case longer. Ultimately, this was my 3rd time in juvie and the first time in, I was in yellow which is what a juvenile detainee with any charge less than a felony will wear. The 2nd time I went in, it was for violating my probation and did around 2 months, I was also still in yellow. This 3rd time being locked up again in juvie, I was in orange which I knew was not a good sign from the start. I still hoped that like the first time, I would get to go home after no more than my usual few weeks, but man was I wrong! The D.A. tried to make an example out of me, more so because I was a repeat offender AND a juvenile. At that time, I was kept in the confinement of the juvenile detention center in Sylmar, California for 6 months. During those dreaded months, time passed slowly yet I was grateful to have a dad that loved me no matter what I did wrong. He visited me every weekend I did in there and it did not matter what facility I was in as well as how far, he always came. I
never understood how much of a hassle it was to visit me until I later on experienced the same situation, being on the other side, and to visit your child is dedication and a meaningful gesture of a love from a parent to the offspring. My father was a good father to me, and I will forever be grateful to have had him as my dad. After about 3 months in the time I was locked up, my father came to visit me and told me that some guy had been calling my house, some guy named Adrian. “Dad! You didn’t tell him where I was at did you?!” I screamed happy and yet mortified. “No, why would I embarrass you like that?” my dad replied, “I told him you were in San Diego taking a break from out here but he keeps calling checking to see if your back.” “Oh my gosh thanks dad, but I can’t believe he’s been calling!” I was in utter shock. The last time I had spoken to Adrian was almost 3 months before this visit my dad paid me, just a little less than two weeks before I got busted and the outcome of our talk wasn’t a good one.
To be continued…