The Justin and Jessica Chronicles: Part Six

What Goes Around Comes Around

Middle school days

In August 1998 I began my freshman year at Bay High. In lieu of attending my zoned school, Mosley, I’d convinced my mom to let me spend my freshman year with Justin. Justin was a senior and his graduating class would be the last to graduate in the current millennium. Making the choice to go to school out of zone was a big deal and a few weeks into my freshman year, I started to regret my decision. Besides Justin, Brian, and Emily, I didn’t know anyone other than a few kids from elementary school.

Back in 1998 the term “bully” wasn’t a widely used term but bullies were definitely an ongoing problem in schools. Because of Justin and I’s decision to save ourselves for marriage, I was being targeted for my christian beliefs. For some strange reason, my virginity seemed to bother my peers. They called me names like “goody goody” and “prude”. There was one particular girl, I’ll call her Trish Mack, who seemed to have it out for me. Trish was the quintessential “mean girl” and she took every opportunity to poke fun at me and my celibate relationship.

“What do you mean ya’ll are waiting for marriage,” she’d say in disgust, “that’s just weird,” She even attacked me in between classes. “Look, it’s miss goody two shoes,” she’d say, “this girl can’t even get laid by her own boyfriend. How pathetic is she?”

1999 True Love Waits banquet

I felt ashamed of the very thing I was taught to be proud of: my virginity. My second semester at Bay, I was lucky enough to get into a class with Brian and Justin; TV Production. The three of us had a lot of fun together but unfortunately I ended up with a permanent seat next to none other than Trish Mack. On the days that she decided to show up for class, she wasted no time in grilling Justin and I about our intimate relationship. Justin told her to shove it, but she never backed down and seemed intent on embarrassing me at any given chance. Then one day, the heavens shone down and gave me a rare but golden opportunity. Brian Woodall likes to refer to the incident as “bloody butt chair.”

Trish is walking around our classroom one day when Justin spots something on the back of her shorts. 

“What is all over Trish’s butt?” Justin asks. 

I stand up to investigate.

“Oh my gosh,” I say, “she started her period.” 

“WHAT?” Brian screeches, “that’s nasty.” 

“Shhh y’all shut up, she’s coming back,” I whisper.

 I desperately wanted payback, but I also knew that it would give her even more of a reason to hate me. When Trish returns, I begin contemplating my options. 

Option A: I tell her nothing and let her go about her day. Obviously one of her friends will eventually help her out. 

Option B: I can laugh and publicly humiliate her. I’m sure that is what she would do to me. 

Or, option C: I can take the high road and quietly inform her of the embarrassing situation at hand. 

I walk over to Trish squat down next to her, and softly tap her on the shoulder.

“What is it virgin?” Trish says in her snobby little voice.

“Ummm, hey, sorry to bother you sweetie, but I think you have an unfortunate situation going on.”

Her cheeks turn hot pink and her eyes start circling the room.

“What are you talking about?” she says back. Don’t you need to get back to your christian boyfriend.”

“I have an extra tampon if you need it,” I reply while reaching into my backpack.

Prom 1999

She quickly stands to her feet and looks at Brian and Justin; who pretend to be oblivious. She grabs her friend Susie (another snob) by the arm and demands that she hand over her sweater. The two of them scurry off to the bathroom as the three of us erupt in laughter.

“Oh NOOOOO,” Justin says, “look at her chair.”

Trish had leaked so much period blood through her shorts that it was all over her wooden chair. While Trish and Susie are in the restroom, the blood in Trish’s chair starts to dry. 

“Gross who’s gonna clean that off?” Justin says in disgust. 

“I don’t know but it’s not going to be me,” Brian replies. 

Then suddenly, Trish returns to class with a sweater around her waist. She slowly walks over to her chair, notices the dried blood and proceeds to swap the chair out with another one from the table. The three of us are revolted. 

For the rest of the semester, Brian, Justin, and I kept tabs on “bloody butt chair.” It never got cleaned and no one other than the three of us ever knew it existed. Everyday, as the chair was passed around in class, the bloody stain shrank a little in size. We cringed when a new person sat in it and we even laughed when that person was Trish. Was she unsanitary or actually that dense? Looking back, I don’t know why we didn’t just tell our teacher about it and call it a day. 

Either way, I knew that my decision to be discreet had worked in my favor because Trish Mack never bothered me again!  

 

Come back tomorrow for Part Seven: The Concussion

The Justin and Jessica Chronicles: Part Five

The Winter Formal


As an 8th grader, dating a high school boy definitely came with a few perks. One of those perks was, I got to go to high school dances. That winter I was excited to attend my first; The Winter Formal. Mom took me shopping, and we found the perfect dress; a long, teal, velvety gown complete with rhinestone halter back. My stomach is in knots as I walk around the corner for my big reveal.

“Uh, hey baby,” Justin says in his spot on Butthead impression.

“Hey yourself,” I say back.

Justin looks dashing in a black tuxedo, white shirt, and matching teal vest. He slips a lovely corsage on my wrist that is full of tiny white roses. For the first time in my life, I feel like a lady, instead of a girl. We have a few lovely moments together before everyone else arrives. 

Our crew consists of Brian and Emily, Cliff (Justin’s pal) and his date Kristine, my girlfriend Stephanie, and her boyfriend Steve. As photos are winding down and everyone is ready to head out for dinner I realize that I’ve forgotten to give Justin his boutonniere. “I can pin it on real quick,” I say unaware of the daunting task at hand. In less than 10 minutes, I manage to poke my finger twice, and almost stab Justin in the neck.

“Hey mom, can you please help me with this thing?” I ask, “my finger is bleeding.”

Twenty minutes later, Justin’s face is red and sweat is dripping from his forehead. In mom’s attempt to help, she manages to make matters worse. Not only does she stick Justin three times, she also breaks the flower off the stem, and sacrifices a ridiculous amount of straight pins.

“Come on Ayers, forget about it,” Brian complains, “it’s just a stupid flower.” Justin motions for his mom (Vicki) to give it a whirl. “Oh great,” Vicki says, “Now it’s my turn to screw it up?”

“We’re going to be late for dinner,” Stephanie says, “I’m so hungry.” As everyone is walking out the door (leaving us behind) Vicki yells, “wait, I think I’ve got it.”

In less than five minutes she pins the mangled boutonniere on Justin collar (without poking him) and reenforces the white rose back onto the stem; it looks perfect.

Justin never cared much for dancing so when he asked me to go to the dance, I was a little surprised. Tonight he seems different; not his usual anti-dance self. He is eager to have a good time and seems proud to have me on his arm.

After arriving at the dance Justin takes my hand and leads me straight onto the dance floor. The dimly lit room glows like a winter wonderland. Up until that point my experience with school dances was a bunch of kids gathered in a school gymnasium. The room was barely decorated and stunk of old gym socks. This dance is quite different.  I am blown away by the elegance of the night and feel like I am in a dream.

The Mariah Carey song Butterfly is blasting from the speakers as we make our way onto the dance floor.

“Spread your wings and prepare to fly, for you have become a butterfly,”

While swaying back and forth to one of the most cliche songs of the year Justin, Mr. rock star himself, looks at me and says: “You look fantastic in your dress and I’ve never seen your hair look better. But you could be wearing sweatpants and still be the most beautiful girl in the room.”

On our way home Brian suggests we have a farewell ceremony for Justin’s mangled boutonniere. It is late and the streets are empty, so we stop at the highest point of the Hathaway Bridge. Brian and Justin have a grand idea to act out the famous bridge scene from Monty Python.

Brian: Stop. Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see.

Justin: Ask me the questions, bridge keeper. I’m not afraid.

Brian: What… is your name? What… is your quest? What… is your favorite color?

Justin: I am Justin Ayers, I seek the Holy Grail, and my favorite color is blue. No…Yellllll….

Brian grabs the boutonniere from Justin’s coat and tosses it into the Gulf of Mexico. It is the perfect ending to a perfect night.

Come back tomorrow for Part Six: What Goes Around Comes Around

 Click here for The Justin and Jessica Chronicles: Part Four – Falling in Love

The Justin and Jessica Chronicles: Part Four

Falling In Love

Justin and I were a match made in heaven — aspiring rock guitarist meets aspiring country singer.

When I first met Justin, I thought Guns N Roses was the name of a biker brand, and Poison was a bunch of cross dressing girls. My parents had raised me on 80’s and 90’s country, and I had dreams of becoming the next Martina McBride.

In the year 1997 music was, by Justin’s standards, at an all-time low. Boy bands were all the craze. The Spice Girls were the biggest pop group in the world, and “MMMBop” was the new “BeBop”.

A few months into our relationship, Justin decided he was going to convert me to a “rock chick.”

“I’m about to rock your world,” he said with a smile on his face.

We went to a Turtle Music store, which was like a used furniture store for CD’s. Justin told me to pick three of my country albums to swap for rock albums.

“It’s just music,” I said while rolling my eyes.

As a singer, I loved to perform music, but I never had a strong connection to it. I usually gravitated towards radio friendly hits, and songs that made me “feel good.”

When Justin and I left the store that day, I ended up with three albums: Live! Live! Live! by Bryan Adams, Slippery When Wet by Bon Jovi, and Big Ones (a greatest hits album) by Aerosmith.

On the way home Justin popped Big Ones into the cd player.

“What song are you playing?” I asked

“You’ll see,” he said while cranking the volume up.

The opening guitar riff was powerful and steady, and the tune sounded a bit familiar.

“I think I know this one,” I said while gazing into Justin’s eyes.

Steven Tyler sang, “We’re partners in crime, you got that certain something, what you do to me, takes my breath away.”

The song was none other than Aerosmith’s iconic 1989 grammy nominated hit Cryin.

In that moment, something happened to me. I’m not sure if it was Justin, Steven Tyler’s voice, or the experience as a whole but something clicked in my brain. I felt like Dorothy, waking up on the colorful side of the rainbow.

At 14-years-old I found myself falling in love, with not only Justin, but also with rock-n-roll.

Pretty soon Justin had me hooked on all the classics: Queen, Reo Speedwagon, Def Leopard, The Rolling Stones, AC/DC, Guns N Roses, and especially Aerosmith.

I’ve always credited rock-n-roll for transforming my spirit but it was actually Justin. I saw the intense way he loved music, and it rubbed off on me.

His passion became mine, and I became a person of substance; instead of just following the crowd like most everyone else.

One afternoon while hanging at my folks house, Justin picked up my mother’s 1963 Gibson acoustic and started to strum.

“I know a country song,” he said.

As he began plucking the opening chords to a familiar song I started to sing.

It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart.

Without saying a word, you can light up the dark

Keith Whitley

“I love that song,” I said, “It’s always been one of my favorites.”

After a few moments of us debating who actually wrote it (I mistakingly thought it was Allison Krauss) we made a decision: When You Say Nothing At All would be our song.

I might have been young and a little naive, but in that moment I knew I had found the man that I would one day call my husband.

Come back tomorrow for Part Five: The Winter Formal

Click here for The Justin and Jessica Chronicles: Part Three – The first kiss

The Justin and Jessica Chronicles: Part Three

The First Kiss

Contrary to a lot of teenage kids, Justin and I didn’t head straight for the bedroom; we were church goers and both virgins. Emily quickly informed me that I would be Justin first kiss. He was not my first kiss, but he would be my first high school boy kiss.

It finally went down in my family hot tub on a sweltering night in August.

“Hey Jess, where are your parents?” he asked while creeping my way.

“They went to a movie, but should be home pretty soon,” I replied.

Justin seemed more eager than usual to take a dip in the hot tub but I assumed he wanted to take a peek at me in my bikini. We’d only been dating a few weeks and I never suspected he’d have the balls to try and french kiss me so soon.

As I turned my head back in his direction, I could sense that something was fixing to happen.

He looked into my eyes, brushed back my hair, and proceeded to shove his tongue down my throat. GROSS!!!

From the left: Justin, Me, Emily, and Brian circa 1999

Oh my God, I thought, how long do I have to pretend to enjoy this? Did I mistake the neighbor’s dog for Justin? When the kiss finally ended, I noticed a light on inside my house. I took this as my opportunity to get the heck out of dodge.

“They’re home,” I said jumping from the hot tub.

I rushed back to my bedroom. I was mortified and I wanted to break up with him.

The next morning I got a call from Justin asking to drop by my house after school. He wanted to give me a note. Great, I thought, I can’t break up with him until I at least read his note.

The note went something like this:

Jessica, I wanted you to know that I have started to develop very strong feelings for you. All I do is think about you. You make me happier than I’ve ever been and I’m so glad you spit on that guy at Opryland. I know we are young but I really think we are unique and unusual.

Love, Justin            

Oh my God, he said love, does that mean he loves me? Now I was even more confused. My mom entered my room and noticed how deep in thought I was.

“Hey honey, how are things with Justin? He seems like such a sweetheart,” she said.

“I don’t know what to do mom,” I cried, “I like him so much but he is such a bad kisser.”

Me and Mom in 1999

Mom had an interesting look on her face as she quietly listened. It almost seemed as though she was smiling.

“You can teach a guy how to kiss, honey,” she said, “what you can’t do is teach him how to adore you. And the chances of you finding another guy who adores you like Justin does are pretty damn slim.”

I knew in my heart she was right. I knew Justin was too awesome to throw away.

The next evening was a Friday night and Justin had called me, wanting to take me on a date. Over the course of our dinner, the letter was not mentioned, but it was definitely the elephant in the room. We had a decent time but I couldn’t help but worry about the moment the evening would come to a close. What should I do if he tries to kiss me again?

After we arrive at my house, Justin insists on walking me to my door.

“That’s okay,” I say, “it’s late and you don’t want to miss curfew.”

But Justin doesn’t stop and continues walking me to my door. I flashback to his slobbery, pointy, angry tongue pushing its way around my tonsils.

As he leans in, I take a breath, close my eyes and brace myself for the worst. Imagine he’s Brad Pitt, I tell myself.

Much to my surprise, it isn’t bad. The kiss is gentle, soft, and even sexy. I open my eyes for a peak. I have to make sure it’s really him. As our lips part ways, my knees are weak and I have butterflies in my stomach.

I feel ecstatic but also a little confused. What the heck happened? How did he get so good in just a couple days?

As we close the door and say goodnight I notice my mom waiting up.

“So, how did it go?” she asks.

“Where you spying on us?” I respond.

“Of course not,” she replies, “I heard his car drive up so I waited for you to come inside.”

“I’m so disappointed in myself,” I say, “I can’t believe I was ready to dump him over a silly little kiss.”

“It was that good huh?” she says while grinning ear to ear.

I thank her for the advice and excuse myself to my room. That evening before closing my eyes, I read Justin’s note one more time. This time it feels different and at 14-years-old I wonder if maybe, just maybe I might be falling in love.

Come back tomorrow for Part Four: Falling In Love

Click here for The Justin and Jessica Chronicles: Part Two

The Justin and Jessica Chronicles: Part Two

The Wabash Cannonball Roller Coaster

Justin and I in 1998 playing with Barbies

Our day at Opryland started off like any other; four teens having a good time. We rode rides, played games, and ate plenty of junk food. But at 14 years old, I had seemingly overestimated my confidence; I wasn’t ready to put the moves on an 11th grader.

Then fate stepped in when we decided to ride The Wabash Cannonball Roller Coaster.

“Emily, see how long you can hold your spit before you suck it back up,” I said with a stream of saliva hanging from my mouth.

Emily and I thought we were pretty cool, leaning over the ledge while slurping our spit back into our mouths. It never dawned on us that we might accidentally drench someone down below.

“Hey, Ayers, why is that dude staring at us?” Brian asked.

“I don’t know but he looks pissed,” Justin replied.

Emily and I looked at each other in fear knowing what we’d done. But it was too late to fess up.  

As we got closer to the front of the line, the red-faced man motioned for Justin to walk over.

Brian and Justin in St Augustine in 2012

“Hey Red, come’ere,” the stranger said from across the line.

He looked to be in his mid-thirties, was six feet tall, had a full-grown beard, and was covered in tattoos.

Justin was a 130 pound, 5 foot 8, 16-year-old kid.

“Uh, yeah,” Justin said as he hesitantly walked over.

Then suddenly, he grabbed ahold of Justin’s shirt, lifting him into the air.

“Who done it? Who done it?” he shouts while shaking Justin back and forth.

“What are you talking about?” Justin screeches back. The man’s anger continues to build as the commotion draws attention from everyone around us.

“Hey Ayers, I’ve got my pocket knife,” Brian quietly offers.

Just as the situation is about to really go south, an unexpected hero emerges; our youth pastor Jeff.

Jeff Stockdale, Emily’s dad, isn’t your average Baptist youth pastor; he’s also a retired Navy Diver. AKA he’s a badass! Jeff pushes his way through the crowd, jumping from four rows back. He grabs the stranger by his arm, immediately releasing Justin from his grasp.

“Holy crap!” Brian shouts as the four of us climb onto the coaster leaving Jeff to handle our mess.

After the ride ends we are all still shaken up. Eager to see the expression on our faces, I suggest that we glance at our action photos, hoping to get a laugh out of the situation.

“Are yall nuts?” Brian asked, “That dude could be right on our tails.”

Emily and I in St Augustine in 2012

“Well, there goes my chance of dating him,” I whisper to Emily.

“Don’t tell him it was your fault and he’ll never know,” she assured me.

A few minutes later I am standing in line for a snow cone when I feel a tap on my shoulder; it’s Justin.

“Hey sexy lady,” he says with confidence, “are you ready to ditch these two or what?”

“Of course,” I said, “let’s go.”

From that moment on, we both stopped being shy. We spent the rest of the evening holding hands, sharing ice cream, and almost kissing. This cute guy that I’d been crushing on for 3 months was finally mine.

Weeks later I asked Justin what it was that finally pushed him to make a move. He told me that his near-death experience that gave him the courage he needed.

He realized he may never get a second chance with a girl like me — a spitter.

“NEVER spit on anyone again,” he pleaded; I never did, and I never will!

Come back tomorrow for Part Three: Our First Kiss

Click here for Part One: Finding Each Other