Part 6
Santa Barbara: Endgame Age 19-22

On Saturday, June 4th, 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 traumatised.

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 forever.

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.