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Authors: Susan E. Isaacs
Tags: REL012000
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I’d ever met. And he loved the Beatles. David Mankewicz and I became best friends.
David was the first guy who could keep up with me. In fact, I had to work to keep up with
him.
David had a video camera, and he made movies. Julianne, Doug, and I went over to his house to write sketches. Well, we watched
as David did most of the work. He was a genius. Thank God he was just a geek.
Then something horrible happened. David grew four inches, got a haircut, got his braces off, and joined the water polo team.
He turned into a hot jock and started flirting with me. It grossed me out. I’d never been close to a hot guy. What if he kissed
me and then forced me to have sex? What if he didn’t have to force me—what if I wanted to? No! That would not happen. Ever.
But what if I couldn’t say no? What if the word wouldn’t come out of my mouth?
“Why not?” Julia shrugged. “David is adorable. He’s young. He’ll be in awe of you.” She’d lost her virginity to a rich kid
from Newport. She said it wasn’t a big deal.
But it was a big deal to me. So I played it safe. I stopped going over to David’s house to write. I didn’t return his calls.
I sat away from him in Production Drama. At first he seemed crushed, but he got over it. He and Doug kept writing sketches
without me. Then I was crushed. I missed him. And John Lennon wasn’t cutting it.
And so I fell in love with David Mankewicz—as much as any insecure sixteen-year-old could fall in love. How could God blame
me? David was perfect: he was funny like me, he wanted to make movies like me, and he was a Jew like Jesus.
I thought about Pastor Norman and his cardboard demonstration. I was terrified of sex. I was terrified of getting shredded.
But I also longed to be loved. I never denied Jesus; I never forgot him. How could I, with that Nice Jesus image cemented
into my psyche? I loved the Nice Jesus, but he was so somber and silent. David had a voice to say “I love you” and a body
to prove it. I fell hard.
Rudy: You went where the love was. I don’t blame you.
Susan: But does God blame me?
Rudy: Why don’t you ask him?
Susan: I can already imagine him shaking his head in profound disappointment.
God: I haven’t even said a word and already you’ve got me shaking my head at you? I don’t have a head. Remember? “God doesn’t
have a body.”
Susan: Psalm 18 says that your nostrils flared when you got angry. If David can imagine your nostrils flaring, I can imagine
you shaking your head.
God: Notice you don’t say Jesus shook his head. And he actually has one.
Rudy: Let’s move on. Susan imagines you feel profoundly disappointed.
God: She got that from her dad, and she transferred it onto me.
Susan: And where did I get my dad? From you.
God: Your sister had the same father, and she managed to love me and stay pure.
Susan: Totally unfair.
Rudy: Susan and her sister are different personalities with different needs. You didn’t make Susan to be quiet and complacent;
you made her to be active and inquisitive, and you taught her to fight. You said as much in a previous session.
God:
Jesus
said that. But I’ll let it slip by since we’re the Trinity.
Susan: All Nancy needed was a hippie Bible study. I needed a smart, healthy Christian role model with cojones. You sent Pastor
Norm, the Christmas elf.
God: Now
you’re
being unfair, Susan—and cruel. Norm was a kind, gentle man. You knew what he said about sex was true. He just wasn’t
GQ
enough for you. You want a hip pastor? How about that skeevy youth pastor who pimped his own daughter into a pop star and
put her in her underwear on the cover of
Rolling Stone
?
Susan: I see your point. I’m sorry.
God: I forgive you. Actually, I already forgave you. I forgave you before you did it. I forgave you before the foundation
of the world.
Rudy: Okay, you forgave her. We got it. (To Susan) Everything you imagine God saying is colored with sarcasm or
David was the first guy who could keep up with me. In fact, I had to work to keep up with
him.
David had a video camera, and he made movies. Julianne, Doug, and I went over to his house to write sketches. Well, we watched
as David did most of the work. He was a genius. Thank God he was just a geek.
Then something horrible happened. David grew four inches, got a haircut, got his braces off, and joined the water polo team.
He turned into a hot jock and started flirting with me. It grossed me out. I’d never been close to a hot guy. What if he kissed
me and then forced me to have sex? What if he didn’t have to force me—what if I wanted to? No! That would not happen. Ever.
But what if I couldn’t say no? What if the word wouldn’t come out of my mouth?
“Why not?” Julia shrugged. “David is adorable. He’s young. He’ll be in awe of you.” She’d lost her virginity to a rich kid
from Newport. She said it wasn’t a big deal.
But it was a big deal to me. So I played it safe. I stopped going over to David’s house to write. I didn’t return his calls.
I sat away from him in Production Drama. At first he seemed crushed, but he got over it. He and Doug kept writing sketches
without me. Then I was crushed. I missed him. And John Lennon wasn’t cutting it.
And so I fell in love with David Mankewicz—as much as any insecure sixteen-year-old could fall in love. How could God blame
me? David was perfect: he was funny like me, he wanted to make movies like me, and he was a Jew like Jesus.
I thought about Pastor Norman and his cardboard demonstration. I was terrified of sex. I was terrified of getting shredded.
But I also longed to be loved. I never denied Jesus; I never forgot him. How could I, with that Nice Jesus image cemented
into my psyche? I loved the Nice Jesus, but he was so somber and silent. David had a voice to say “I love you” and a body
to prove it. I fell hard.
Rudy: You went where the love was. I don’t blame you.
Susan: But does God blame me?
Rudy: Why don’t you ask him?
Susan: I can already imagine him shaking his head in profound disappointment.
God: I haven’t even said a word and already you’ve got me shaking my head at you? I don’t have a head. Remember? “God doesn’t
have a body.”
Susan: Psalm 18 says that your nostrils flared when you got angry. If David can imagine your nostrils flaring, I can imagine
you shaking your head.
God: Notice you don’t say Jesus shook his head. And he actually has one.
Rudy: Let’s move on. Susan imagines you feel profoundly disappointed.
God: She got that from her dad, and she transferred it onto me.
Susan: And where did I get my dad? From you.
God: Your sister had the same father, and she managed to love me and stay pure.
Susan: Totally unfair.
Rudy: Susan and her sister are different personalities with different needs. You didn’t make Susan to be quiet and complacent;
you made her to be active and inquisitive, and you taught her to fight. You said as much in a previous session.
God:
Jesus
said that. But I’ll let it slip by since we’re the Trinity.
Susan: All Nancy needed was a hippie Bible study. I needed a smart, healthy Christian role model with cojones. You sent Pastor
Norm, the Christmas elf.
God: Now
you’re
being unfair, Susan—and cruel. Norm was a kind, gentle man. You knew what he said about sex was true. He just wasn’t
GQ
enough for you. You want a hip pastor? How about that skeevy youth pastor who pimped his own daughter into a pop star and
put her in her underwear on the cover of
Rolling Stone
?
Susan: I see your point. I’m sorry.
God: I forgive you. Actually, I already forgave you. I forgave you before you did it. I forgave you before the foundation
of the world.
Rudy: Okay, you forgave her. We got it. (To Susan) Everything you imagine God saying is colored with sarcasm or
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