I like music. Actually, I like music a ton. I’m not picky about genres although I don’t care for death metal as I’ve gotten older. My ears can’t take the screaming. One artist I always liked more or less is Jon Bon Jovi. I bought his Slippery When Wet album after listening to it in my cousin Todd’s car on the way to school my freshman year. I enjoyed that album. As a matter of fact, one song in particular became my favorite song for a time — “You Give Love A Bad Name.” Because of certain events when I was a junior in high school, however, it went from being one of my favorites to a song that to this day I refuse to listen to on the radio. Budge knows to turn the station as soon as it comes on. I will not listen to that song and I’ve never told Budge why. Here’s why.
I had a friend in high school. Let’s call her J. J was from another feeder school than I was so we didn’t meet until freshman year. Because we were both honors students, we had many classes together and we got pretty tight over the years. I flirted with her shamelessly mostly because she was never a serious consideration. As Clint Eastwood once said, “A man’s got to know his limitations.” She always laughingly turned me down and I would sing or hum a few bars of “You Give Love A Bad Name” to her. She would respond with mock outrage every time I did and we’d have a good laugh.
The laughter stopped when we were juniors. As will often happen, J met a boy late in our sophomore year. The two could not have been a worse match if they had been members of the Jets and the Sharks. They were from totally different backgrounds and sadly, but honestly, on two totally different life trajectories. J was smitten with the bad boy. We’ll call this bad boy D. J’s mother and stepdad LOATHED D with a burning passion and forbade her to see him, much less go on dates.
Love finds a way though. In this particular case, I was more than once part of that way. See, J’s parents believed a version of me that most parents of my friends and acquaintances held to all through my junior high and high school years . . . a least until I became a senior, but that’s another story for another day. J could go anywhere with me no questions asked, so sometimes, I would take J to see D. I still sang “You Give Love A Bad Name” to her on the way there and on the way back and elicit a knowing smile from her. I knew this was going to all end in tears, star-crossed lovers and all that. Maybe I would have done differently if I’d known just how bad it was going to end. Then again, maybe I wouldn’t have.
This rocked on for a little over six months. Don’t hold me to the exact dates and times. The years have taken some of the details, but enough remains. J started wearing baggy clothes to school the winter of our junior year. I didn’t think anything of it for two reasons, she could make a flour sack look like a prom dress and I was and still am completely oblivious to so much that happens right in front of my face. Budge shakes her head at me sometimes.
Anyway, I went over to see her once during Christmas break and we talked about nothing. She asked me to take her to see D. We snowballed the parents with some story and I took her to him. They grabbed each other and started crying. I had no idea what was going on so I just eased out of the room and waited in the car. She came back and was wiping her face to get the tears off. I took her home and didn’t think another thing of it. I have to be honest, I was going through my own dark valley, the first of many, during this time. So I wasn’t as observant as I might have been, and also oblivious.
J didn’t come back from Christmas break. She didn’t come back the entire month of January. I missed my friend but I figured she had her reasons. She did. Dear Lord Above, she did. When she came back finally, she was different. She wore normal clothes again, and her face was different. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t kid around with me like she used to. She wasn’t the same ever again until we graduated high school.
Now all y’all have probably gotten this all figured out by now. It took a mutual female friend sitting me down and explaining things to me. J’s parents found out she was pregnant, but it was already into the second trimester. J did everything she could to hide her baby, but it didn’t work in the end. I can’t imagine the pressure they put on her to have an abortion for her to actually go through it. She couldn’t get it done in South Carolina though so her mother took her to Georgia for the procedure. It took her a while to get over so she was out of school that month.
D was devastated and he partially blamed me. I don’t know why since I didn’t do anything other than what I was asked and i always supported them, but sometimes people need a scapegoat so that’s what I was. They never saw each other again to my knowledge, but I’m not certain about that.
All I do know is J was never the same. Her laugh that used to be so melodious sounded forced. She had a darkness about her that nothing I did could pierce. We graduated. She went off to school, got married, and had two or three kids so at least her uterus wasn’t damaged. She got a divorce. I don’t know why, but she married again, a guy from high school. They didn’t last long until she cheated on him. Now they are divorced. That’s all I know; Facebook stalking will only get you so far. From what I see, she seems happy, but who knows what thoughts come in the deep hours of the night. I know I don’t.
So, that’s why I hate “You Give Love A Bad Name.”
Love y’all, and keep your feet clean.




