Youthful Indiscretions
So if I assaulted some cheerleader in high school or even college, would it disqualify me for Man of the Year here on the South End? I mean, isn’t there some kind of statute of limitations for youthful crime? And if I was drunk at the time, or stoned out of my head, wouldn’t that help explain my actions and even erase some or all of the guilt? Not saying I did, mind you, not admitting to anything, just wondering out loud here, just asking a philosophic question.
And if Sheila (not her real name, of course) stepped forward after all these years to accuse me (not saying she exists, remember), should I admit to what I did and maybe ask her forgiveness? Or would it be better to deny deny deny the possibility, slim to impossible though it might be, that maybe, just possibly, I was too whacked that lost evening to remember my amorous advances, much less realize they might have been mistaken for rape? Or can we just say what happened that long ago shouldn’t be held against me now, after a life of coaching girls basketball and going to church every Sunday. My friends vouch for my sanctity in the times they have known me, c’mon, isn’t that testimony enough?
Yeah, I feel kinda bad for Sheila (not her real name, maybe not even a real person), cause I can see she might have suffered a little all those years and I wish like hell she’d let bygones be bygones, but geez, she really has held onto this thing, some kind of obsession it looks like to me (although I’m not a psychiatrist or anything) and maybe she took this preoccupation and turned it into a delusion, who knows? Maybe something did happen back then at that party I wasn’t even at and somehow, in her shock and confusion, thought it was me grinding on top of her when actually it was my buddy egging me on, although he claims he wasn’t there either and if he was, he was too smashed to remember that night or really many others back then.
Sure, we drank a few beers, my buddy and me, and we played a few innocent drinking games. Those people who say we drank too much, they forget I went to church every Sunday and I coached girls basketball, but I never drank so much I wouldn’t remember everything I wrote down on my calendar. Check my calendar. There’s no day where I wrote down I tried to rape a Sheila … or any other girl. I was working out, going to football camp, playing Devil’s Triangle (it’s a harmless drinking game!) so anybody can see I didn’t have time to rape a Sheila (which is not her real name), check it out for yourself.
I’m a good guy. I worked my butt off in college. I studied hard and yeah, I drank an occasional beer, I went to church, I have been a pillar of the South End all these years. Why would something that happened, maybe happened, so long ago matter one iota now? We all had some youthful indiscretion, right? Right? We should just forget about that now and move on. And Sheila, whatever your name is, you need to move on too. If you need any help with that, be sure to call me. Or my buddy who you might have mistaken for me. We can be there for you.
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Tags: Kavanaugh Innocent When We Won't Prove Guilt, Statute of Limitations on the Youth