I meant every goddamn insult I shouted at Stradlater tonight. It makes me sick thinking of him and Jane on a date. He didn’t even know her name! Whatever, it doesn’t matter because he’s a pro at getting girls to let him give them the time. I know for a fact that he’s done this dozens of times.What makes it worse is that moron wouldn’t tell me about his date. For chrissake he couldn’t even ask her a simple question. Alls I wanted to know was if she still kept her kings in the back. The only thing I wanted return for doing his composition was a damn answer. One factor that I know for sure is that old Stradlater was out with Jane doing God knows what to wear her down and he was doing this while wearing my hounds-tooth jacket. I think that I am the only student at Pencey that can sees past Stradlater’s yearbook handsome looks and realizes how much of a phony he really is.
The thing that angered me most about Stradlater and drove me to my breaking point was that he expected the dam composition to be about a house or a room, and became furious that it was about Allie’s baseball mitt. Once again my innocent brother Allie was being punished because Stradlater saw a room or house as a more desirable topic than Allie’s legacy. Lemme tell you Allie was one of the brightest and most innocent kids that you will ever meet. The night he died I slept in the garage and broke all of the windows. As a result of Stradlater insulting me, Allie, and also because he wouldn’t tell me a damn thing about his date, I attacked him. I was determined to break him like the windows I broke the night of Allie’s death. Stradlater is a basketball player and stronger than me, the fencing team’s equipment manager but I did manage to pin him down and give him a piece of my mind. Then he let one go on me, my nose was dripping blood like Pencey is dripping with phonies. To all you morons at Pencey, sleep tight, because old Holden is never coming back.
Tonight was an interesting night. I mean, I’m not even sure what happened really. One moment I’m on the elevator feeling pretty miserable and the next, there’s a freaking prostitute in my hotel room. At that point you would think that I would be feeling better but instead no, I still felt lousy. It’s the goddamn elevator guy’s fault. I shoulda known the second he said a word to me that I was getting myself in trouble. Maybe he thought that since I was looking kind of down I needed to get some action or something. Whatever. Turns out he’s just like everyone else I knew at ol’ Pencey; phony to the bone. He started talking to me like all the others did, friendly and all but for some reason I fell into his trap. Maybe it was cause at that point in the day, I didn’t care about anything anymore. So, I let my guard down. What a mistake that was!
So now, after agreeing with Maurice to get a prostitute for 5 bucks, I wait and wait and in between all of this waiting, I realize what kind of man I really am. I’m not a man that will fight, physically fight to get myself out of a situation but instead, I rather take my aggression out with words. What can I say? But you know, that is why I haven’t slept with a woman. Guess I’m not their type. Anyways, before I could get much further with my thoughts, the prostitute (Sunny) arrives. When I open the door, I was completely blown away! I mean, I kinda expected an older woman, there’s no shocker there, but instead she’s my age! At that moment, I didn’t want to go any further. I wasn’t in that moment anymore you know? And plus, that “operation” on my clavichord sure took a toll on me. I tried to bring up a conversation but that goddamn Sunny needed some help with her conversation skills. How can you have a good talk if you go and sit on my lap? At that point, I wanted her out; out of my room, out of my life so I go and pay her the 5 bucks that I owed. And then, get a load of this, she goes and insists that 10 bucks not 5. Maurice told me it was 5 so I go and insist right back to her. Finally, she leaves and boy was I glad. Little did I know that at that point, the goddamn night was not over yet…
Today I went on a date with Sally. We kissed. A lot. I even told her that I love her! She told me she loves me too. But I didn’t really mean it. Why would I mean it? I mean.. she’s pretty and all, but so fake, so phoney. She’s one of those regular, fake girls who always get what they want. She talks up a storm about nothing and doesn’t let you get a word in, but it is always fake. It’s always a phoney conversation. Take this guy we bumped into that she probably met once at a party. They weren’t actually friends. They probably didn’t even know each other’s names, but they talked the entire time the play wasn’t running. It was so hard to sit through. They just kept going on and on and on about people and places that they both knew. Oh and the guy. The guy was the most phoney, most typical boarding school bloak you could ever meet. It was horrible. I couldn’t handle it. I almost thought he was going to come with us in the cab even. And then me and Sally went ice skating, once we finally got rid of him that is. It was her idea to go. She wanted to go so bad. Yet she was so horrible. You could tell she was trying too. It was just so fake, the whole date. Everything about it. I hate when people are phoney. It is just so irritating. I just can’t handle people when they’re like that.