mulders-boyish-enthousiasm:

Young David Duchovny’s girlfriend

What’s the worst thing you’ve every done to a woman?

I’d never tell. Let me think for a moment. I’ve forgotten many a birthday.

How about before the age of eighteen?

There was a girl in sixth grade who used to go out with my best friend, however you go out in sixth grade, and they broke up. And because she no longer went out with my best friend she became the target of our scorn and hatred, in the way you choose up sides at that age. And we, as like an English project, wrote a play about her and we read it out in class, just about how stupid she was, and how ugly, and all those things that you would do to another sixth grader to try to humiliate them. And we were hysterically tickled by the whole thing, we thought it was the funniest thing in the world. But looking back, that was just a horrible thing to have done.

Well, you’re sorry now, aren’t you?

I don’t think I’m sorry, but it doesn’t really jibe with what I like to think of my character. And the most humiliating thing that happened to me as a result of something I did, probably at around the same time, is I was riding back from baseball practice with the older boys, and they would, like, yell out names of girls. They’d say: “So-and-so!” and then everybody would say what they felt, like “Pretty!” or “Dog!” or whatever. And somebody yelled out this girl, and I, having never felt a breast or even having been near enough to feel one, said, “She’s flat!” You know, showing off that I had any kind of sexual expertise. And of course, the boys in that class ran to her when they got off the bus and said, “Oh, Duchovny said you’re flat.” So the next day when I got to school, I was surrounded by six or seven girls. They were kicking at me, and they said, “Well, how would you like it if we said you had small balls?” Which was wonderful, because it shows that they had no idea of how to humiliate me, either. And I remember walking home from school, not understanding that this was a show of affection. I really thought they hated me, I didn’t know that they were actually communicating interest in me.

I think they did really hate you.

No, they didn’t.

How do you know?

Because. I became their friend. The girl who I said was flat became my friend—even though I may or may not have had small balls. And she was like the yenta of our set. She was the matchmaker, and she thought I should go out with the cutest girl in the school. She was one of these beautiful young girls, she glowed , and everybody was in love with her. And this other girl decided, “Okay, you’re going out with her. She’s your girlfriend.” There was a dance that Friday at my school, so, she said, you’ll see her there. So Friday came along and I saw here decorating for the dance, putting up the actual mirrored ball. And I ran because she was just too beautiful, I couldn’t talk to her. And then the dance came and I wasn’t comfortable dancing–cool boys didn’t dance. They slow-danced, but they didn’t dance dance. And in fact, “Stairway to Heaven” was such a dilemma because it started out a slow-dance song and you could rub your crotch against the girl, but then it got fast, and then what do you do? Do you rub your crotch really frantically against her to Jimmy Page’s soaring guitar work? So anyway, I could not face my fear of dancing, my fear of this girl’s beauty, could not talk to her at the dance, and did not say a word to her all night. My own girlfriend. And I was informed on Sunday that she had broken up with me. That was my first girlfriend. And what I still think of as the healthiest relationship I’ve ever been in.

(Full interview)