Next in line was the boy who was many firsts to me. My first love, my first lover, my first heartbreak, my first boy I imagined a future with and my first time realizing that my already intense temper was amplified by having feelings for someone. That High School boyfriend that even 25 years later you still think about every once in a while. That typical starry-eyed infatuation with each other. We didn’t fight often but when we did, it was epic. As I get older I may have to accept that a part of me likes the fight. As a teenager, I was not self-aware enough to realize I seemed to pick men that could trigger that hot-blooded part of me. When you are a passionate person I think you enjoy all those intense feelings, even anger. Boy did we have some fights, so good that I remember them to this day.

I can’t remember what started the first one. Whatever started it definitely ended in a fury. In true female fashion, I stormed away from our beach date and I refused to get into his car. As I walked down the street, my skates in hand as he slowly trailed behind me. I don’t remember what he said but whatever it was it sent me into an intense rage. So intense that I turned around threw one of my skates at his car and was so determined that it be known how angry I was I left that skate right there on the road. I walked home one skate in hand filling the air with as many profanities I could think of. When I got home there he was waiting for me skate in hand. I just walked right past him. He chased after me trying to get me to talk to him. At this point, I turned and told him, “You may not have noticed but I have one skate left!”

Of course, we had the typical “late for a date” fight. Haven’t we all? I had planned and cooked this dinner, which for my budget at the time was extravagant. Steaks with blue cheese stuffed potatoes. I methodically cut tiny ass x’s into these tiny ass potatoes and carefully stuffed each one of those little bastards with blue cheese. Hours later this stoned asshole decides to show up. As cold as the food was as hot as I was. I sat there looking at his plate. My fury just kept growing. He did not show up to a concerned girlfriend. He showed up to a woman who’s brain was now only a giant ball of fire just waiting for the moment that she could release it. I met him at the door with the plate in hand. All night I thought I would rip him a new one. Yet when it came to the moment I only had one thing to say. He mumbled some lame-ass apology and I gripped down harder on the plate. I looked him straight in the face and said, “Heres your fucking dinner!” I then I threw that plate at his feet, turned around, and slammed the door in his face. He stood outside my window begging for me to talk to him. All I would say was, ‘Go fuck yourself” until he finally slinked away.

The benefit of a woman with an intense temper is usually once we let it out a strangely calming effect happens and within a night all is forgiven. By the next morning, I was back to the girlfriend he remembered. Although I have never made those potatoes again. I guess I can’t let it all go. Just seeing a picture of those little bastards makes me feel a little angry.

I saved the best for last though. The night of the flying hub caps. My pension for passionate men means I also know how to push their buttons. Why do I need to push their buttons? I don’t know. It is an annoying quirk at best. I swear some sick part of me gets turned on by the fire in their eyes. As we headed to a typical High School party he did something to anger me. By the time we got there, I had decided that I would show him just what happens when you are an inconsiderate ass. Knowing how much he hated when I ignored him it became my mission to pretend his existence was barely on my radar. As soon as we walked through the door I became the life of the party. Making a very conscious effort to avoid his gaze. I could still feel it though. I could feel him staring at me, I could feel his anger just bubbling away. If he did try to talk to me I would say something generic and polite and proceed to my next party conversation. Is there anything more annoying than someone being calm when you are angry? I was winning and I knew it.

Then he did it - he got me and he got me good. I walked from the kitchen to the living room and there he was on the couch with some girl. I could see what he was doing, I knew it was all for my benefit. Even if you know, it is still hard to stop those feelings. He leaned closer to flirt with her, knowing I was standing right there. I didn’t yell or storm out. Instead, that weird calm that comes over me right before I completely lose it started to take over. I stood there watching him and a plan started to form. I knew that losing my temper in front of everyone would give him satisfaction. There was no way in hell I was going to gift him with that. Instead, I calmly walked over, leaned down, and told him, “You want to hurt me? Well, I’ll hurt you where I know it hurts the worst.” I then calmly walked out of the party.

You see, he had this vintage car that he loved more than anything in this world and he had just gotten the vintage hubcaps for it. I knew where a pry bar was and I knew what had to be done. It took some effort but I got two of them off. With hubcaps in each hand, I headed toward the beach. It seems it slowly sunk in that there was no way I would just calmly handle his behavior. It must have hit him like a ton of bricks that his car was my obvious choice. As I stood there knee-deep in the ocean I could hear him running up yelling, “Don’t Jolie!” I took those hub caps and threw them one at a time into the ocean watching how amazingly fast metal hubcaps sink under the waves. He caught up with me but they were nowhere to be seen. As he desperately started looking in the water for his precious new loves I slowly walked out of the water. As he yelled, “God Damnit Jolie, why the hell would you do that,” I just put my middle finger in the air and leisurely walked my happy ass home.