Everything between extremely vivid descriptions of my sex life and drugs I had taken/ingested/smoked filled the pages of that tiny maroon journal my dad was holding in his hand. He looked angry more than anything and I knew immediately what just went down.
As a high school student living with her super chill mom and tight-lined Army father, things weren’t always relaxed, but, routine. Wake up, marching band rehearsal, school, club meetings, more band rehearsal, homework, dinner, shower, sleep, rinse & repeat. I seldom had any time to make dumb mistakes and have fun with my friends. At times, it really sucked but it paid off when I found out I was graduating with a 4.3 GPA. I could practically get into any school I wanted right? Well, I couldn’t tell you that because I am a horrible procrastinator.
My whole dream in high school was to get accepted into Texas A&M University. With my SAT and ACT scores, I would’ve been granted automatic admission, if I had actually applied. Yep. I literally waited until the last day to apply and then our WiFi went stopped working; ergo, I never applied. I ended up looking at other schools that I would like and I ended up really liking Texas State University and The University of Alabama. I applied to both; was accepted into both so I chose TSU. I would have chosen Alabama but my father’s Hazelwood Act did not cover out-of-state college tuition.
Fast forward a year later, I have a quarter of my bachelors degree completed and I’m back in Houston for Thanksgiving. My whole family is celebrating with some food and football. I ask my mom if I can go to the corner store for a pop and she says sure. I leave and make sure to grab my ID and debit card because I’m actually going for cigarettes.
I made sure to throw my cigarette remains out of my car window a few blocks down from my house because I definitely did not want to get caught smoking. As I pull up in the driveway, I see my dad crossing him arms and staring me down like he’s about to pull out his 47. Walking closer now I can see an object in his hands. It’s MY FUCKING JOURNAL! The first thing that comes out of his snug mouth is “nice to know my Hazelwood is paying for you to smoke pot and have sex.” Then he tosses my journal on the floor, stomps inside and slams the door.
I am in complete shock. I don’t know if I should be pissed or embarrassed or guilty. Then it hits me like a ton of bricks: my journal was locked up in my dresser drawer in my room – in my sacred place. The one place I can always come to if I need anything. My own fucking home. I am legit pissed off now. I ran inside and confronted him (crying all the while) about how this was a complete ridiculous thing for a grown man to do, to read my private and honest thoughts and that it was a total invasion of my privacy. I had never felt this way towards anyone before. For a moment, I actually hated him.
To give y’all an idea of how inappropriate my journal is, here’s my very first entry (names have been shortened to protect privacy):
“August 19th, 2014
Wow. Today has been crazy. A lot, & a lot of shit has happened…start from the thought that today was my second day of college. First, I had to wake up at 7:30 for Bobcat Preview. That lasted until about 4:45. I invited Z, my Instagram friend (we met yesterday) to go to Walmart with me. He insisted we take his car, so we did. I bought stuff for my dorm, he got condoms and a pregnancy test for a friend (he didn’t have sex with her), we left, and stupid dumbass me put the wrong key and broke the ignition. Fuck.
Speaking of fuck, I lost my virginity tonight!! & I gave Z like two blowjobs too. I’m glad we aren’t in a relationship, it would just ruin FWB anyway. Sex didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. I bled a lot, but he washed it all out. He said that I am beautiful and my body is perfect. I know he was only saying that because I was naked on top of him, but I know he meant it.
For the first time ever, I have felt like I’m sexy, really sexy. For once, I was proud of my body and showing it off. We just decided that we’re doing it again on Friday. Hopefully it’ll hurt less this time, and I can focus on enjoying having sex. I love it. Friends with Benefits is such a great idea.”
I know this seems like a typical college girl’s diary, but imagine you writing this and your dad reading it. It only gets more descriptive as the pages turn, so it’s not exactly ideal. I hate picturing my dad’s expression as he reads each page…it’s so embarrassing. I really wanted to make sure he always looked at me as his little girl and not some foul-mouthed slut but hey, what can a girl do?
This whole fiasco took place in 2015. It’s 2017 and I haven’t really spoken to my dad much, nor has he apologized for reading it in the first place. I will never forgive him until he breaks down and expresses an apology. Petty? Yes. Understandable? Yes. Relatable? Probably not.
Ryleigh Miller. 