Dang, Tony
I’m getting over a breakup. It happened about 36 years ago.
I was in the fourth grade and for almost one whole week, I had been going with Tony Dang. It was my longest relationship to date.
Four days into our new love, Tony and I were walking home from the bus stop. We were holding hands. And as we said goodbye at the corner, he kissed me on my cheek. And then I bent down (Tony was several inches shorter than me) and kissed him on his cheek. It was my very first kiss. And then he said “See ya,” grinning and whipping his dark brown skater bangs out of his dark brown eyes. And as soon as I got home, I was on the phone with Tony, my first boyfriend and my first kiss. This was our little ritual, holding hands, walking home together, saying goodbye at the corner and then running home to get on the phone. It was very young love.
But the next day it all came crashing down. Cue dramatic music.
The next morning, we were on the blacktop waiting for school to start. I was wearing a new pink and black striped sweater dress that I was very excited about but was probably too form-fitting for a prematurely busty 9 year old. Soon, a circle of kids formed around me, and everyone started calling me a slut.
It was awful in and of itself but the part that bothered me the most was my sweet boyfriend, Tony, standing there silently watching me get abused by a mob of 9-year-olds and not doing anything about it. And to think I wore this dress for him!
My sweet little skater boy Tony Dang didn’t defend me. He didn’t even attempt to open his mouth. He almost seemed amused. And it hurt. And as I was not yet a People Pleaser, I decided to do something about it.
When the bell rang, I went to Reading/Writing and Tony went to Math. And I decided to use my reading/writing time to pen a little note to Tony. The note said this:
(This is from memory so it’s not verbatim but the essence is the same)
(Please read in a British accent)
My dearest darling Tony,
I was quite dismayed by the behavior displayed forthwith on the blacktop this morning. The chants and screams and meanness displayed by the children in my own grade were ever so hurtful, but as hurtful as they were it doth not comparest to the sting I felt seeing you stand silently by. Tony, nay, Anthony, if we are to remain betrothed as we have been these past 4 days, these past 4 glorious days, I need to know that you will stand up for me, and speak out whenst my honor has been betrayathed. Will you, Anthony Dang, promise to do this next time, forsaking your need to look cool, but standing beside me, and protecting me? If thou shalt not, then I can no longer be the lass you are going with henceforth. Please circle Yes or No below. Yes means you’re sorry and No means you’re not. Yours? Sarah
I folded the letter several too many times and waited nervously for class to be over.
When the bell rang again, our two classes switched rooms, two single file lines of 4th graders passing in the hallway. When I saw Tony walk toward me, I handed the note to him without a word. And then I found myself sitting in Math class counting every second as I waited for that bell to ring again. It was the 1984 equivalent of sending a harsh text and watching the three dots animate on your phone until the response popped up.
When the bell finally rang again, our class lined up to enter the hall. As I entered the hall, my class began passing the other class as we did before in single file lines on either side of the hallway and I saw Tony coming toward me, but he didn’t have my note in his hand. So that was confusing. Then, when he got close, he looked at me and yelled, in front of all of my friends and all the other students and all the teachers, he yelled, “Hey Sarah, consider yourself dumped!”
Dang, Tony!
There were ooos and ahhs and laughs. I felt like I’d been punched. Some of the same kids who called me a slut that morning were now laughing at me again. To this day, it’s still one of the most horrifying days of my life and I got my first period all over a chair in home economics class.
Instead of heading outside for recess I went straight to the bathroom and hid in a stall for the entire four hours. That’s right kids, we had four hours for recess back then. Okay it was 30 minutes, but it felt like 4 hours. I remember my best friend Stacey coming in to check on me and lying to her that I was fine. I don’t even remember leaving that bathroom stall. Maybe part of me is still there, mortified AF. That morning all I wanted was for Tony to stand up for me. Now I wished I’d never even had the thought. Ugh the audacity of me to want something and then ask for it. I didn’t blame the other kids. I didn’t blame Tony. I blamed myself and my harsh penmanship.
But if you feel bad for me, don’t. Seriously, it’s only scarred me for life and caused irreparable damage in every relationship I’ve had since and I can’t even find that motherfucker on Google.
Because of Tony I learned that telling a boy exactly how I felt would mean the end. And so rather than ever have a hard conversation which I knew would end in a breakup, I avoided it. And I kept my mouth shut and bit my tongue, suffering in silence. And then at some future date that would be a shock to both of us, I’d rip his fucking heart out. All because of what Tony did to me, because of what I did to him, because of what he did to me.
Dammit. If only I hadn’t written that letter to Tony we’d probably be married now. I’d be Mrs. Sarah Dang. We’d have 6 little half Jamaican half Chinese skater boys and girls each with millions of followers on Instagram. And Tony would’ve never had to see me as a human being with needs and desires and I would be miserable and trapped in a nightmare of my own creation.
Sarah Cooper’s debut memoir Foolish will be out October 3rd. This piece is not in the memoir but other stuff is. If you are interested in pre-ordering the book, click here. If you are Tony Dang, click here.
