ERMAHGERD, FERST LERVE!

Well, I've only received one question so far, so I'll go ahead and answer that.  My friend Robin wanted a highly descriptive essay on my first love.  See, now THAT'S a question!

If we really want to go far back into my childhood, my first love would be John Cusack.  But I'm thinking Robin wants to know more about an actual person that I knew in real life.  So we'll travel back to 1989.

Now, before we go back, I will have to let you know that this was an unrequited love, so there is no "happily ever after" BS.  Sorry.

Ready?  Here we go!

*time machine noises*

1989.  I was in 4th grade.  Nine, almost ten years old.  We'll call him "L".  Now "L" never really talked to me, but I admired him from afar.  He did his thing during recess, and I hung out with the other girls, either being shy or being a bad influence.  It depended on the day.  Anyways, "L" would play sports during recess.  Basketball, mainly.  I would watch him from waaaaaaay out on the playground (so as not to be obvious), my heart giving off little flutters now and then.  I was such a romantic.  He never noticed me.  And so much crushing went on.

Fifth grade.  I only went to the same school as him for half a year.  During that time, I still admired him, dreamed about him, thought about him constantly.  My hopes were dashed about a quarter of the way through that school year when I found out he liked this other girl.  I didn't like her before, and I HATED her after that.  She was the complete opposite of me: thin, White, blonde, rich, and a snob.  Everyone was beneath her, so it was a surprise that she even gave "L" any attention, since he was more like me than her.

After that, I just gave up.  My grandfather was dying, so it didn't matter as much.  When he did die, we moved to a different town, which meant a different school, which meant I didn't see "L".  For about six months.

Sixth grade.  We're back in the same school.  It's like nothing had changed for me.  His fascination with the other girl had died out.  My shy little heart was ecstatic.  For about half that year (in between dodging bullies and being depressed because of said bullies), I held out hope.  We didn't have any classes together, but we saw each other here and there.  He was always so nice to me.  I still remember a skating trip that they had for the sixth grade class.  We somehow wound up sitting next to each other on the bus ride home.  He talked to me, laughed with me, and made jokes about the stupid glow sticks and necklaces we had all bought.  I'm pretty sure my face was bright red while all this was going on, but it was dark, and no one could see.  I was still shy, but I managed to talk a little bit and laugh.

Of course this all changed when this girl marched into class one day, wearing his jacket.  Back in those days, if you liked a guy or were "going out with him", you wore his jacket.  You can imagine how I felt, especially when she started talking about it, and essentially rubbing it in my face.  I don't think she actually knew how I felt, but any conversation about how sweet he was just twisted the knife deeper.  It lasted about as long as you could expect something to last in sixth grade (like three weeks), but I still felt pain over it.  And I hated that girl.

Seventh grade.  That year started out horribly.  Bullied again (same person).  I was afraid to ride the bus because of her.  I also had to deal with the fact that "L" was on my bus every Wednesday, due to some nutty scheduling.  THAT was a torment, because I was never sure if my bully was going to pick Wednesdays to torture and humiliate me (we rode the same bus).  I usually tried to duck out of school on those days, or at least conveniently miss the bus.  On the days that I actually DID make it to the bus, my stomach would be doing a mad cha cha, both from being scared of my bully, and having to see "L".  In case you couldn't tell, I was PAINFULLY shy.  I think you caught on, though.

I don't remember much else about seventh grade, beyond the bullying, the teacher that hated me, and "L".  Always him.  When summer rolled around after that school year, I thought I had finally broken whatever weird fascination I had with him.  NOPE.

After a summer of working on my shyness, and realizing that my bully wouldn't be around to torment me in eighth grade, I came back to school in a better frame of mind.  The year itself was a blast, "L" was in all of my classes, and we were all going to be graduating from the school in June.  I was still mad for him, still dreaming, still praying, still hoping that he'd give me the slightest bit of romantic interest.  No.  I was still just the quiet fat girl.

The year passed by much too fast.  It ended with a trip to Six Flags, the eighth grade graduation dance, the graduation itself, and the last day of school.  I don't remember much of the Six Flags trip, but I can recall in detail the night of the school dance.  Why, you ask?  Because I blew the one chance I might have had.

The night of the dance, I realized that I didn't want to go.  I don't know why I felt like this, but I did.  It might have been my shyness creeping back.  After some convincing from my cousin and friends, I finally made the decision to attend.  I did my hair and makeup (yeah, I wore makeup), put on the outfit that I had carefully selected (VERY 90s), and walked out to my dad's truck.  His friends were standing outside, and they all told me how pretty I looked.  For normal people, that would have been a compliment.  For me, it was crippling paralysis.  I finally managed to get in the truck, and my dad took me to the school.  Once there, I hung out with my friends, compared outfits, and watched the guys.  You all know how those school dances go: boys on one side, girls on the other.  After about an hour, everyone started mingling, and things got underway.  I did my usual wallflower routine, and only danced when I could get away with anyone not seeing me.  Then, the last slow song came on.  "Unchained Melody".

I know what you're expecting.  It didn't happen.  I looked at him from a distance.  My friends were like, "GO ASK HIM TO DANCE!"  No.  NO.  I couldn't.  So my friend got sick of it, and went up to "L" to ask him to dance with me.  I fled outside.  I don't know if she actually got to the point of asking him or not, but I wasn't sticking around to find out.  She came out a few minutes later to find me hiding behind a wall and crying.  And that was that.  Goodbye, chance.

The last day of school rolled around the next week.  We goofed around all day, taking pictures, saying goodbye to the people we wouldn't be seeing in high school, crying (such girls!).  I had my camera with me, and was taking pictures of anyone and everyone.  Then I saw "L" walking by himself.  I don't know where it came from, but I managed to work up the courage to ask him to take a picture.  He smiled and said, "Yes."  I snapped it quickly, wished him a good summer, and walked away.  My face was burning from embarrassment, but I was incredibly happy.  I still have that picture in my eighth grade graduation album.

I don't know what happened after that.  The love that I thought would be around forever disappeared that summer.  When I saw him in high school, I felt nothing.  NOTHING.  After five years of pining for this dude, PBBBBBBBT!  I don't know why that happened like it did.  How can feelings just turn off like that?  The mind is weird.  I moved on to other "loves", other nutcases, and eventually, my husband.

Not much of a romantic ending, huh?  Or maybe it is, because I'm with a person who never gave me a chance to be shy, and as such, got stuck with me.

Okay, that isn't romantic.

Fin.