crush

I can pinpoint the exact moment when it began. It was about five minutes into sixth period (Health class), the first day of my freshman year of high school. I scanned the room, determined to find a new boyfriend to complete the rite of passage into adolescence, looking for possible victims. And there he was. I was smitten.

It turns out he was in my next class, as well, Gifted English. I thought, “Gifted! He’s in Gifted with me! Now I’ll get to talk to him!” As if I would ever do such a thing as talk to a boy I had a crush on. My friends did such kind things as say, “Why do you like him? He looks like a monkey!” and proceeded to corner him after class, asking him if he thought I was pretty. I’m sure you can imagine the level of success such tactics yielded.

I crushed on him on and off all throughout high school. Through first loves and casual romantic encounters with his friends, I never took my eye off of him. Graduation rolled around and we headed off to different schools. I figured I’d never see him again.

Then fate smiled on me one drunken October night. It was my sophomore year, and I was sitting outside a Halloween party, drunkenly engaging in enthusiastic conversation with a new BFF (I tend to make a lot of those when I’m intoxicated), oblivious to the fact that I was burning holes in my fairy wings with a cigarette. When up walks my long lost crush.

“No way!” I shouted, “What are you doing here?” Somewhere along the line I’d gotten to be a lot more outgoing than in the high school days (I’m sure the alcohol helped).

We sat and talked like we’d been great friends in high school, not casual acquaintances with lopsided lustful tension. Turns out he was planning on transferring to LSU the next semester. I see him all the time now, and we often irritate our friends by engaging in intellectual discussion, usually regarding politics, while everyone else is playing Beer Pong and talking about football. He’s the new President of College Republicans, perhaps my most despised campus organization, and I still think he’s cool. I like him that much. And he doesn’t look like a monkey anymore (I never thought he did, but my friends now concede that he’s grown into his looks).

He has never once expressed any romantic interest in me, resulting in no small amount of personal distress on my part. I’m not sure he really dates at all, which provides me with some minute measure of comfort. But I will always think of him as the one that could have been, should have been, maybe someday will be, perfect for me.


technoarti tags: personal life love romance and relationships

posted by Just Call Me Fabulous @ 1:20 PM