On Saturday, June 4
, 2011, I packed up all of my most important belongings into my car, said
farewell to my mother, and drove off to face my destiny in the beautiful ocean-side town of Santa
Barbara. It was raining as I arrived in the vicinity, and I felt a sense of ominous foreboding as I entered
Isla Vista, my new home. My father met me outside my apartment; he came to help me move in.
The two of us walked up to the leasing office where they gave me my new set of keys, and then one
of the receptionists walked me to the apartment unit that I will be staying in for a month. I was
introduced to two new housemates who would only be there for one week. One of them was named
Artem, a quiet Russian student who went to UCSB; and the other, whose name I don’t remember, was a
tall blonde surfer-type boy who went to SBCC. I was annoyed at how tall and attractive he was, though I
didn’t show it.
After I unpacked all of my belongings, father and I went out for a quick lunch before I said goodbye to
him. And that was it. For the first time in my life, I was living independently, miles away from my
parents, in a new town. I felt a sudden sense of anxiety, fear, and trepidation; but I also felt a sense of
hope that my life could possibly change for the better. I exchanged small talk with my new housemates,
and they seemed nice enough. It was hard to believe that I was actually living in an apartment with two
other college students who I didn’t know until that day, especially for someone like me who has had
very minimal social interaction with other young people. It felt so odd and peculiar. I was uncertain of
what to expect, and the anxiety I felt from that uncertainty was overwhelming, but I knew I had to push
through this. I knew this was the major turning point of my life. My life was finally changing, and I had to
do my best to make that change a positive one.
The very first night was traumatic and gave me a very bad taste about everything. Through my
window I heard a lot of students partying outside, and I wondered, with a great amount of fear, how I
would ever be able to join in on their fun. That was the reason I was there, after all. I didn’t think I was
capable of it. Later in the night, I heard a boy and a girl having sex in the apartment above me. Just
knowing that other young men get to enjoy the pleasures of sex while I get none of it has always filled
me with envious rage, as well as bitter hatred towards the world; but to actually hear them doing it?
That was even more traumatizing. I was prepared for this, however. I had done a lot of research about
college life in the town of Isla Vista, and I knew that students had a lot of sex there. I had an inkling of a
suspicion that I would eventually hear or even see people doing such things if I lived in that
environment. Hell, the reason I moved there was because it was a sexually active place. I myself wanted
to be sexually active. But when I heard that couple above me having sex, I couldn’t help feeling vile and
miserable about it. I tried to calm myself down and convince myself that soon I will be doing the exact
same thing. How wrong I was.
My first week turned out to be very unpleasant, leaving a horrific first impression of my new life in
Santa Barbara. My two housemates were nice, but they kept inviting over this friend of theirs named
Chance. He was black boy who came over all the time, and I hated his cocksure attitude. Inevitably, a
vile incident occurred between me and him. I was eating a meal in the kitchen when he came over and
started bragging to my housemates about his success with girls. I couldn’t stand it, so I proceeded to ask
them all if they were virgins. They all looked at me weirdly and said that they had lost their virginity long
ago. I felt so inferior, as it reminded me of how much I have missed out in life. And then this black boy
named Chance said that he lost his virginity when he was only thirteen! In addition, he said that the girl
he lost his virginity to was a blonde white girl! I was so enraged that I almost splashed him with my
orange juice. I indignantly told him that I did not believe him, and then I went to my room to cry. I cried
and cried and cried, and then I called my mother and cried to her on the phone.
How could an inferior, ugly black boy be able to get a white girl and not me? I am beautiful, and I am
half white myself. I am descended from British aristocracy. He is descended from slaves. I deserve it
more. I tried not to believe his foul words, but they were already said, and it was hard to erase from my
mind. If this is actually true, if this ugly black filth was able to have sex with a blonde white girl at the age
of thirteen while I’ve had to suffer virginity all my life, then this just proves how ridiculous the female
gender is. They would give themselves to this filthy scum, but they reject ME? The injustice!
Females truly have something mentally wrong with them. Their minds are flawed, and at this point in
my life I was beginning to see it. The more I explored my college town of Isla Vista, the more
ridiculousness I witnessed. All of the hot, beautiful girls walked around with obnoxious, tough jock-type
men who partied all the time and acted crazy. They should be going for intelligent gentlemen such as
myself. Women are sexually attracted to the wrong type of man. This is a major flaw in the very
foundation of humanity. It is completely and utterly wrong, in every sense of the word. As these truths
fully dawned on me, I became deeply disturbed by them. Deeply disturbed, offended, and traumatized.
Those two housemates moved out within a week. I was glad to see them go, after that horrible
incident. I was then presented with two new housemates, who would be staying in the apartment for
the rest of the month that I was there. Their names were Daniel Faynshell and Reed Mankins. Reed was
a quiet Asian-American student who was studying biology at UCSB, and Daniel was a heavy-set Russian
student who had a witty personality. Both of them were older than me by a couple of years. Daniel was
very social and talkative. He often tried to start conversations with me, which I actually liked. Social
interaction was always welcome in my lonely life, and I found him to be a very interesting person. It was
nice to have someone reach out to me.
Soon enough, my summer session at Santa Barbara City College began. I had enrolled for two classes,
a history class and a geography class. The history class started at 8:00 in the morning. When my alarm
rang, I enthusiastically put on one my new shirts as I got ready to start my first day of my new college.
The weather was sunny and bright as I made the drive down the 101 Freeway. This was it. This was the
moment of truth. My whole life has led to this.
I was starting a new college, in a beautiful new town. This was my fresh start to attain the life I’ve
been craving for so long. If I am unable to make it in this opportunistic environment, then I am doomed
I felt a surge of confidence as I ascended the flight of stairs that led up to the main campus. For my
first class, which was history, I had to cross the iconic bridge to the west campus. I tried to feel as
confident and sure of myself as possible, thinking that all of the girls I passed were attracted to my
appearance. They should be. I spent a lot of time choosing out that shirt and doing my hair.
When I reached the classroom, I saw some pretty girls waiting outside. My new classmates, I thought
with excitement. I was a bit dismayed that they didn’t pay any attention to me. They didn’t even look at
me. I was sure I had an attractive appearance that day, but those girls didn’t seem to notice it. Perhaps I
was deluding myself.
As all of the students started pouring in, a group of typical popular-type boys sat near me. Their
overly social and obnoxious personalities offended me, and I felt like getting up and leaving. They
somehow knew all of the pretty girls in the class, and it broke my heart to watch them chat up the girls.
How could I compete with those popular kids? I hated them so much. I’ve wanted to be like them all my
life, ever since elementary school, but they never accepted me. They have caused my life to be a living
hell for so long. Right then, on the very first day of SBCC, I was going through the exact thing as I did at
every other school I’ve been to; the feeling of being a lonely, unwanted outcast.
That class was horrible, but I didn’t want to give up so soon. I couldn’t! My whole life depended on
my success in Santa Barbara. I attended my geography class next. This class was much more interesting,
and more relaxed, but it didn’t have any pretty girls in it. After lunch I walked over to the cafeteria area,
and I saw so many pretty blonde girls sitting around. I wished I had the courage to go up to them and ask
one on a date, but they would have seen me as a creep. Girls are so cruel.
After I left the campus I drove around downtown Santa Barbara to explore new areas. I went up and
down State Street, the main common area of the city where everyone frequents.
Countless restaurants and shops lined a magnificently designed street with wide walkways. It was
absolutely beautiful… a true paradise, for those who were thriving there. I can only imagine how
heavenly it would be to walk with a beautiful girlfriend down that street. My life would be complete if I
get to do that. It would be the epitome of gratifying perfection. To have a beautiful blonde girl by my
side, to feel her hand clasping my own as we walk everywhere together, to feel her love! That is what I
want in life. Instead, I had to watch other men experience my idea of heaven while I rot in bitter
And there were a lot of young couples on State Street. The whole area was full of young people
enjoying their pleasurable little lives. I saw groups of good looking popular boys and girls gleefully
walking together. It reminded me of that fateful night, years ago, when I walked through the Calabasas
Commons and saw the same thing. And there I was, over two years later, still in the exact same position.
It was very hard to deal with. I quickly drove back to my apartment and cried to myself, soaking my
pillow in the tears of my agony.
So far, Santa Barbara was not working. I dreaded how horrible it would be to continue suffering my
miserable, lonely, celibate life in such a beautiful city where everyone else experienced the pleasures of
sex and love. That would be the darkest hell. And that was exactly what was in store for me.
After a couple of days I decided to drop my history class. I couldn’t stand watching those obnoxious
popular boys talk to all of the pretty girls in the class. The girls actually liked them! I should be the one
they pay attention to, but they treated me like I was invisible. I didn’t want to torture myself any longer.
I felt a sense of guilt as I did it, because I made a bid to make the best of my time in Santa Barbara. Once
the class was dropped, I felt a sense of relief. I was still enrolled in the geography class, and it was only
the summer session. I had plenty of time to make up for it.
I spent the rest of my first month trying as hard as I could to put myself out in the social environment
of Isla Vista. Daniel was twenty three years old, so I asked him to purchase some alcohol for me, a bottle
of vodka in particular. In that college town, everyone went out with at least a little alcohol in their
system. I wasn’t an alcoholic, but drinking alcohol always helped me with being more confident and
sociable. On weekend nights, I took a few shots from my vodka bottle and set out on walks around the
town, desperately hoping that I would stumble across some opportunity to make friends. I often ended
up sitting alone at some café, hoping girls would talk to me before I sobered up. No girl ever did. I then
went back home to lie in my bed alone.
On one such night I got drunk enough to introduce myself to some other students who lived in the
same apartment complex. They were sitting in the common area of the apartment, and I went up to
their group and sat down with them. They weren’t hostile towards me, and I was able to exchange some
form of small talk with them. After a while though, I ended up just sitting there awkwardly, and they
eventually questioned why I was so quiet. I hated when people did that… no one ever understands the
troubles of someone who suffers from social anxiety. They offered me a few beers, which I gladly
accepted. I ended up getting so drunk that I completely blacked out. I stumbled back to my apartment
and vomited on the floor, just like I did on that embarrassing night at Addison Altendorf’s birthday party.
The next morning, I didn’t even remember that I vomited. Daniel informed me of what happened, with
an amused grin on his face. I felt so ashamed, but at least I did something more social than anything else
I’ve done in the last few years. That was some progress, I supposed.
Due to living in an entirely new environment, with lots of new experiences to come with it, the first
month in Santa Barbara went by very slowly. I was relieved when July arrived, and I was able to visit
home for a weekend. When I arrived back in Woodland Hills, I felt like I hadn’t been there for ages. It
was a pleasant feeling, as it gave me the subconscious impression that my life was finally moving
forward instead of staying stagnant.
When I arrived back at my mother’s apartment, she was away at work, and Georgia was at school. I
took a moment to relax after going through so much trauma and unrest, catching up on all of the Game
of Thrones episodes that I missed, including the Season 1 finale. Later that night, I met my mother and
father at an upscale restaurant near Warner Center, and they both seemed very proud of me. I wasn’t
proud of myself, as I barely met my expectations in my first month in Santa Barbara. I had an exquisite
meal at the restaurant, and while there I saw a pretty girl walk in with her family. I glanced at her and
she glanced at me. I desperately wondered if she thought I was attractive, and I tried to convince myself
that she was attracted to me, in an effort to feel better about myself. Whether she was attracted to me
or not is a question I will never know the answer to.
There was no school on the following Monday, due to the 4
of July Holiday. I went with my mother
to the annual 4
of July party at the Lemelson’s. There, I saw James for the first time in a while. It felt
good to see him again. He had been ignoring me in the last couple of months, but the two of us
reignited our good friendship at the party. I told him that I was now going to college in Santa Barbara,
and he seemed happy for me. As I ate dinner with him, Noah, and a few of Noah’s friends at a table
outside, I filmed a funny video that I still have on my phone to this day.
On the next morning, I made my drive back to Santa Barbara to finish the second half of my summer
session. I prayed that I would have a better experience from then on.
When I got back to Capri Apartments it was time for me to transfer to my permanent apartment unit,
the apartment unit that I was set to stay in for the whole year. I loaded all of my belongings into my car
and said goodbye to Daniel and Reed. I enjoyed my stay with them. They made for excellent college
housemates. Before I left, Daniel told me that I should come to visit in the future.
My new apartment was in another Capri Apartments building. The main building was on Seville Road,
in the center of Isla Vista. The other building that I was meant to stay at was on Abrego Road, a few
blocks away, towards the edge of the town. At first I was unsure of the location, though it was still
walking distance from all of the action. It was definitely quieter in that area, so that was a positive.
One of the receptionists showed me to my new bedroom. The apartment unit was empty. My new
housemates wouldn’t be moving in until August, so I would have the whole apartment to myself for the
month of July. I quite liked that. It would provide me with the comfort to settle into the place. I had no
idea who my new housemates were going to be, and I was hoping they would be people I could be
friends with to help improve my social life. All of the rooms were randomly assigned at Capri
Apartments, so I had no control over who I would end up with. I could only hope that they would be at
least tolerable, because they were to be my housemates for the whole year.
My father drove up to Santa Barbara to meet me a few days later. The two of us went to have lunch
at a restaurant in the Camino Real Marketplace, an area that I often frequented. When we sat down at
our table, I saw a young couple sitting a few tables down the row. The sight of them enraged me to no
end, especially because it was a dark-skinned Mexican guy dating a hot blonde white girl. I regarded it as
a great insult to my dignity. How could an inferior Mexican guy be able to date a white blonde girl, while
I was still suffering as a lonely virgin? I was ashamed to be in such an inferior position in front my father.
When I saw the two of them kissing, I could barely contain my rage. I stood up in anger, and I was about
to walk up to them and pour my glass of soda all over their heads. I probably would have, if father
wasn’t there. I was seething with envious rage, and my father was there to watch it all. It was so
humiliating. I wasn’t the son I wanted to present to my father. I should be the one with the hot blonde
girl, making my father proud. Instead, my father had to watch me suffer in a pathetic position. Life is so
cruel to me. When I said my farewell to father before he drove home, I felt absolutely miserable. I then
went back to my room and sulked for hours.
Another incident happened on the following day, near the same location. I went to the Starbucks at
the Camino Real Marketplace by myself, like I usually did every morning. I ordered my coffee and sat
down on one of their chairs to relax. A few moments later, when I looked up from my drink, I saw a
young couple standing in line. The two of them were kissing passionately. The boy looked like an
obnoxious punk; he was tall and wore baggy pants. The girl was a pretty blonde! They looked like they
were in the throes of passionate sexual attraction to each other, rubbing their bodies together and
tongue kissing in front of everyone. I was absolutely livid with envious hatred. When they left the store I
followed them to their car and splashed my coffee all over them. The boy yelled at me and I quickly ran
away in fear. I was panicking as I got into my car and drove off, shaking with rage-fueled excitement. I
drove all the way to the Vons at the Fairview Plaza and spent three hours in my car trying to contain my
tumultuous emotions. I had never struck back at my enemies before, and I felt a small sense of spiteful
gratification for doing so. I hated them so much. Even though I splashed them with my coffee, he was
still the winner. He was going home to have passionate heavenly sex with his beautiful girlfriend, and I
was going home to my lonely room to sleep alone in my lonely bed. I had never felt so miserable and
mistreated in my life. I cursed the world for condemning me to such suffering.
I wanted to do horrible things to that couple. I wanted to inflict pain on all young couples. It was
around this point in my life that I realized I was capable of doing such things. I would happily do such
things. I was capable of killing them, and I wanted to. I wanted to kill them slowly, to strip the skins off
their flesh. They deserve it. The males deserve it for taking the females away from me, and the females
deserve it for choosing those males instead of me.
Ever since I was seventeen, I often fantasized about becoming powerful and inflicting suffering upon
everyone who has wronged me in the past, but I never thought I would actually do it. At this point, after
going through so much suffering and injustice, all of my innocence had been swept away. The world had
been cruel to me, and it molded me to become strong enough to actually have the capability of
returning that cruelness to the world. I had never been a violent person in nature, but after building up
so much hatred over the years, I realized that I wouldn’t hesitate to kill or even torture my hated
enemies if I was given the opportunity.
I spent the next five days in my room, trying to forget about the horrific experiences I had to go
through. But even in my room, I couldn’t escape from being reminded of my worthlessness. Every time I
looked out my window to the courtyard, I saw young people socializing. Obnoxious drunk boys were
chatting up pretty girls, and I wondered with great panic if they would be having sex together in the
night. I often fantasized about barging into their rooms while they had sex and slashing them to death
with my knife.
Before I knew it, it was July 12
and the countdown on my internet homepage was up. The new Song
of Ice and Fire book, A Dance with Dragons, was released. I emailed my mother to order me the book
from Amazon. The countdown was ultimately over, and I had nothing to show for it. I was still a virgin,
even after a month of living in a town full of college kids who had sex all the time. I realized that I had
only twelve more days as a teenager! I was going to turn twenty very soon. One of my hopes was to at
least lose my virginity before my time as a teenager was over. Being a virgin at the age of twenty would
make me feel very defeated.
I made a bid to do everything I could to lose my virginity in those few remaining days I had. With a
tremendous amount of panic, I wondered what I could possible do. The only thing I could think of was to
go out to the common areas of Isla Vista as much as possible. I had to put myself out there, even if it
only increased my chances of having sex by one percent. One percent was still better than zero.
For those crucial twelve days I had left as a teenager, I walked over to the center of Isla Vista every
day and sat at one of the tables outside Domino’s Pizza, hoping against hope that a girl would come up
and talk to me. Why wouldn’t they? I looked good enough, didn’t I? Or did I not look good enough? Such
thoughts flew through my head in frantic waves. For dinner, I always walked over to the healthy
restaurant called Silvergreen’s. There were always hot girls there, but none of them deigned to even
look at me. On every one of those nights, I walked home alone, with my head down in defeat.
I made no progress in school either. My geography class had no pretty girls in it, so I had no hope
there. I spent a lot of time sitting in the cafeteria area, but all of the beautiful girls I saw intimidated me
too much. One time, as I was walking across the huge bridge that connected the two campuses, I passed
by a girl I thought was pretty and said “Hi” as we neared each other. She kept on walking and didn’t
even have the grace to respond to me. How dare she! That foul bitch. I felt so humiliated that I went to
one of the school bathrooms, locked myself in a toilet stall, and cried for an hour.
On one of my very last days as a teenager, as I was sitting at my usual place at the food court outside
Domino’s, I saw a sight that shattered my heart to pieces. A tall, blonde, jock-type guy walked into one
of the restaurants, and at his side was one of the sexiest girls I had ever seen. She too was tall and
blonde. They were both taller than me, and they kissed each other passionately. They made me feel so
inferior and worthless and small. I glared at them with intense hatred as I sat by myself in my lonely
misery. I could never have a girl like that. The sight was burned into my memory, and it caused a scar
that will haunt me forever. When they walked away, I followed them in my car for a few minutes, and
when they entered a less inhabited area I opened my window and splashed my iced tea all over them. It
was all I could do at the time, but at least it was something. At least I made some effort to fight back
against the injustice. I felt sick with hatred that night. The hatred boiled inside me with burning vitriol.
My summer session ended with no positive effect on my life. After I completed my final exam, on
which I received the grade of a B, I drove back to my hometown feeling defeated.
Shortly after, my 20
birthday finally came. Soumaya and Jazz were away in Morocco for the summer,
so father met up with me, my mother, and my sister at an upscale restaurant in Encino. My parents
didn’t show any concern for how miserable I felt about being a twenty-year-old virgin. They treated it as
if it was any normal birthday. They didn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation, which
annoyed me immensely. The restaurant had an “all-you-can eat” buffet system, and I greatly stuffed
myself that night. Delicious food was the only vice I was able to enjoy, since I was deprived of sex. I had
a very fast metabolism, so I could eat as much as I wanted without getting fat. I suppose that was one
advantage in my rather disadvantageous life.
When I got back to my mother’s apartment, she let me have a bottle of wine, and I truly drank my fill.
“Everything’s better with some wine in the belly.” I spent the rest of the night pondering over what was
in store for me at that point in life. I was no longer a teenager, and I’ll never be able to experience
having sex as a teenager. My teenage years were completely denied to me by the cruelness of women.
The only way I could make up for it was if I could have an extraordinary sex life in my twenties. I would
have to have a profoundly amazing decade in my twenties to compensate for all the misery I
experienced in my teens. If I fail to do that, then I have nothing to live for. Sadly, I will only experience
the opposite in my early twenties, and it will destroy me.