Tale of S, the Girl who always did Everything the Correct Way
Let's go on a time journey: back to the 90s! The spacetime vortex engulfs us, stars and galaxies whirl and swirl... then everything goes dark and cold: nullspace. A heartbeat later, we feel light and warmth... a schoolyard. We are in a schoolyard in 1998 in Germany. High schools are known as "Gymnasium" here. That's the whole school, not just a place for sports.
Whomp.
Whomp.
WHOMP!
WHOMP!!
CRAAASH!!!
T H U N D E R!!!!
Clearly, a kaiju is approaching. The ground shakes. Windowpanes jingle. The time travelers stare around in distress. Why is there a kaiju in Germany? What are its intentions...?
No need to worry. The kaiju we're talking about is below 5 ft. tall. A blonde micro-kaiju. A micro-kaiju who is glancing around most breezily while smashing her feet to the ground with earth-shaking force.
S, as said kaiju is actually called, had a very singular way of walking. She stomped, putting maximum force into each step, basically trampling the ground like a galloping elephant. The fact that her legs' ratio of width to length was unusually large helped her with this.
Take a picture of an average girl, put it in GIMP or Photoshop and shrink down the height to 2/3 while keeping the width: Then you get an approximate image of S. A minuscule, nearly emaciated torso sat on short, stompy, fat legs which packed a surprising amount of muscular power. Her face, which was framed by blonde curls, always glanced at the world in a cheeky, breezy, "ain't I cute" fashion.
My very first encounter with S was in the 8th grade or so (14/15 years old). I had walked down the school aisle most dreamily, thinking some autistic thoughts or making up a story for myself. A collided with someone -- it was S -- but I nearly didn't notice and strolled on my way and into the classroom. A minute later, the ground rumbled. S stomped in with her boyfriend in tow, straight up towards me and slapped my face. Ouch.
I only got to know S better at "Senior Level", that is, the last two grades of Gymnasium which prepare you for graduation, because I moved into the same class she was in. I even took the same majors as she.
It is somewhat hard to describe what made S a lolcow. In a most compact way, it could be said that she always did everything the correct way. There was no randomness, no fun, no youthfulness in S's vicinity. She talked and behaved like a 30-year-old social worker: "One should never take drugs because they make you addicted." "One should never eat at McDonald's because it is unhealthy and bad for the environment." "Genetic engineering is the most horrible thing on earth, scientists playing god and creating monsters."
At the same time, S thought of herself as terribly sexy. At our school, there was a theater group which both S and I attended. In one play, she played a lady circus director. This resulted in a
Marlene-Dietrich-style photo of her, with her putting on garter belts while grinning at the viewer in a come-hither fashion. Remember what I told you about her legs? The outstretched one nearly covered 60% of the photo's entire area.
This photo ended up on the desk of K, another girl from our grade on whom I had a crush. I wasn't around, but I'm sure K yelled for eye bleach. While the majority just found S silly and annoying, K actively hated her. I don't know the origin of this, but they had been in the same grade for many years and... well, S could get annoying. VERY annoying.
One time, K came to school in a miniskirt and a red tank top. This looked good on her, she had the body and legs for it. The very next day, S came to school IN EXACTLY THE SAME OUTFIT, down to the oversized clasp pin attached to the skirt. "Can't you think up some fashion choices for yourself?!", K shouted exasperatedly. S looked at her as if she had made the most unreasonable remark in the world.
As I mentioned earlier, S had a boyfriend -- they were a completely monogamous couple since, I think, they were 13 years old. (Which didn't keep S from flirting with other boys if she felt like it.) Said boyfriend, let's call him F, was a wholly stupid individual, a massive dork who was only interested in video games, action movies and skater fashion. S, on the other hand, wasn't, strictly speaking, stupid. She did read a fair amount, played theater and wrote stories which weren't terrible (but also not very original). Her boyfriend usually just tagged after her like a tame doggy. At one point in time -- so I was told -- their relationship was on the brink of collapsing and one boy had already made posters, flyers and signs printed with "S AND F ARE NO LONGER TOGETHER" and planned to hand them out to all students. But the relationship did keep, probably because they both realized that there were little other partner options for them.
Once, I and some friends planned to go to the cinema to see "The Empire Strikes Back -- Special Edition". S objected to this movie: I didn't have cultural substance -- vapid, unrealistic Hollywood fireworks. So she dragged F away to some other movie while everyone else went to see Star Wars.
Like I said, S and I were in a theater group. It was headed by one teacher, a Mrs. B, who is the second lolcow in this tale.
Mrs. B looked like a living skeleton covered in huge mountains of mismatched clothing. An oldschool rebel of the 1960s, she was perpetually unhappy with capitalism and patriarchy. After all, men had invented such ugly things as nuclear bombs and computers and the internet, just to show off their superiority and annoy women. Mrs. B was permanently pissed off, hated all students who were good a "masculine" subjects such as physics, maths and sports and changed her shoes once a year (at most).
Mrs. B and S formed a team; it can actually be said that the theater group was headed by Mrs. B and S together. When we discussed what play to rehearse, a lot of us favored Ibsen's "Peer Gynt", but S had decided that it was an uninteresting play. She went to Mrs. B, told her that we should rehearse a Bert Brecht play, and so it happened.
During rehearsals, S's word counted as much -- sometimes more -- as Mrs. B's. If she thought that this-and-that should be done in such-and-such a way, it happened.
After the Bert Brecht play, Mrs. B went into retirement and decided to go see a professional production with us as a farewell celebration. Said production was an expressionist play about Brecht's life which looked like it was made by Emma Sulkowicz. Its entire point was to present Brecht as a sexist, to which end it covered the stage in two hours worth of gore, splatter, rape, genitalia, torture, feces, semen, screaming and everything else the subconscious of Baby Smurf Torture Guy would throw up if he overdosed on Angel Dust.
During the train ride to the city where this play was presented, S talked constantly about what clothes she would wear at our graduation ball. Once we had arrived, she and Mrs. B started stomping ahead of the rest of the group, never looking back, never looking left or right, they kept going and going, leaving everyone else far behind. We others went to Pizza Hut, S and Mrs. B to some culturally valuable café. But soon enough, the ground roared, our two leaders were back -- S looking at us reproachfully for going to Pizza Hut -- and off we went to the theater. There, we were joined by a friend of Mrs. B's, who looked like a stereotypical unkempt battle lesbian. The majority of us considered the anti-Brecht play garbage (which is was), some others found it funny or even sexually arousing... afterwards (I felt like I was run over with a steamroller, I was a bit more sensitive back then than I am now), Mrs. B's hench lesbian friend decided it was time to go to a disco. I didn't enjoy this very much, either... anyways, somehow we spent the night at a youth hostel (of which I have absolutely no memory, it's like my brain intentionally erased most of this trip) and went back the next day.
S then decided to write a farewell play for Mrs. B which we would perform for her. I opted to send her a postcard instead...
The following year, I graduated. As is usual with German students, many of our grade rented a hut in a distant location (the Alps, in our case) in order to spend a few days there partying. I belonged to a group which considered itself too cool for this hut, though, we thought of it as a "loser hut". So I only know what happened there from photos and reports by others. One girl, who was friends with aforementioned K and thus an anti-S-warrior, told me that one evening, S had taken the hands of her two friends (who were ńot exactly bright) and danced to a techno remix of the Maya the Bee theme while moving her hands up and down in a "WEEEE I'M DRUNK I'M HAVING SO MUCH FUN" fashion.
This was the thing with S: She did everything "the correct way". Not eating at McDonald's, not watching Hollywood movies -- killing all fun in a wide radius (which was probably the true reason K hated her) -- and then resurrecting fun in a controlled fashion: Let's party for two hours, afterwards we must be normal, rational, productive people again. S was never young. At age 17, she behaved like a social worker, teacher or psychologist in her mid-thirties who considers mixing in a spoon of real coffee with the decaf a wild night...
...While walking like a kaiju all the time -- and considering herself a sexbomb.
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