This is more than a crush*

I once was a cherry-cheeked young lass, with an innocent heart and a joker smile, and an unfortunate lack of fashion and body-awareness.  I was what is commonly known as a “late bloomer”, but that didn’t stop me from having crushes, like every other high-school girl.  I’d like to take a moment to reflect on and pay tribute to the great crushes of the late nineties. 

San Francisco- Ah, my first big crush.  This boy was dreamy- dark blonde hair, blue eyes, a winning smile.  He played soccer, and was a year ahead of me.  I’m pretty sure he wasn’t an asshole, because he seemed nice and all the pretty and popular girls befriended if not dated him.  I went to a small school so I’m certain had he been a raging doucher I would have heard.  The highlight of my day was seeing him near the gym each day during the break between second and third period.  I’m pretty sure if he had tried to talk to me I would have stammered, blushed, and acted either rude or disinterested.  Contrary to all logic, that approach doesn’t seem to work well, but I eventually learned that. 

Yellow 5- All the girls in my group liked this one, even though he was younger than us.  I, still being painfully shy and awkward, was still operating under the “please don’t pay attention to me” strategy and in a move I would forever regret, turned Yellow 5 down for a requested dance during our “Welcome Back” dance.  Anyway, Story and I knew part of his class schedule and would come up with elaborate plans (complete with maps and timetables) on how to pass him as many times in the day as possible.  My mom called this “stalking” but it’s not like we ever followed him home or stole his sweatshirt or collected his hair or anything.  Even at that time I knew that was creepy and would require way too much effort.  So, it was comparatively healthy.  Besides, I actually talked with him a few times throughout the years, over the pounding of my anxious heart,  and much to the surprise and delight of my girls.  Nothing ever came of our interaction, but still…WIN. 

Mormon Beckham – I played soccer with him and his sister for years.  Not once did he ever have one iota of interest in me, but there was not a lot I wouldn’t have done to change that.  I fawned over his scars endlessly, I asked about his religion and his hobbies.  I complimented him and if given the choice, always picked him to be on my team if we’d scrimmage.  He was always acted nice and polite, as Mormons are wont to do, but now that I reflect, he didn’t really have much of a personality.  It may be that our two religions put us in two different worlds, nary to cross.  Or it’s possible that he just found me annoying and figured it was his god-given cross to suffer fools.  I’m sure that today he’s a very good husband, and a great father to his 11-20 children. 

The Gay One, The Be-freckled One, and N-Dude – All attended my school for a year or less, and all were my friends.  The gay one had a different name that fails me right now, but he never held any interest in me, much to my confusion, because we spent a lot of time together and got along very well.  He never “came out” while he was at my school, but had he, it may have explained a lot.  In retrospect, that revelation wasn’t really shocking like the ending of The 6^th Sense was or the fact that people pay Sarah Palin to do…anything.  All the signs were there, I just couldn’t see them.  The Be-freckled one played soccer and every day we’d drive to practice in his car, which was by far the most ghetto yet awesomely sound-equipped car I’d ever been.  I liked him but my enamor wore off when he started dating a girl that embarked on a mission to make me her new best friend.  She was nice enough, but I wasn’t into it.  Also, when that affair of the heart ended, Breath announced she was moving in, and I wasn’t going to stand in the way of true love or the possibility of actually landing a prom date.  N-Dude was different.  He didn’t look anything like the light-eyed, tan-skinned, mostly-athletic boys I’d previously liked.  He was quiet, intelligent but uninterested in school, and had a very caustic wit.  I guess he was kind of pre-Emo, sans the floating-sexual-orientation and open-invitation to make fun of him.  We remain friends to this day, and years after the fact, I found out he liked me “like that” during high school.  Of course, he and I were both extremely awkward, and instead of just telling me he liked me, his plan was to date my friends.  Contrary to all logic, that approach doesn’t work too well either, but he eventually learned that.

The Rebel- When I was finally old enough, I got a McJob.  It was the first time in my life boys seemed to notice me, and this led to some very entertaining moments and people in my life.  I met The Rebel in the drive-through.  He and I are still friends, and my parents still ask about him fondly, however, at the time they were not appreciative of the seven year age gap betwixt the two of us.  In his defense, he never tried anything lurid or inappropriate with me.  But there was no way I could resist his charm and rebelliousness.  He drove a lifted truck and had piercings.  He raced motorcycles and listened to rap but didn’t smoke weed or do drugs.  He was dangerous, but not so dangerous my tender bunny-heart would be afraid to associate with him.  I’ll never forget his sexy line before our one and only kiss: “Now, kiss me like I’m not your grandmother.”  Now that’s amore. 

The Heartbreaker – This was one of the smoothest talking people I’ve ever met in my life.  I didn’t think I had any chance with him because he was so popular and cute.  This means that I was…free.  I was free to be my exact self and make my silly and sarcastic jokes and just relax and never worry about what he thought.  So when he took an interest in me, it was one of the most thrilling feelings I’d ever experienced.  How could someone so cool want me?  I wasn’t as pretty or flirty as the other girls he’d dated.  I wasn’t as stupid or slutty as they were either, but that’s neither here nor there.  I had never experienced such intense feelings for someone.  I felt butterflies in my stomach when he held my hand; I thought I was in love.  Unfortunately his ability to make a girl feel like a million bucks was not only exercised on me, and when reality cold-cocked me, it hurt.  Though I felt it was entirely possible for him to be “the one”, I was one of several naïve girls he charmed.  It was from him I learned that the rest of the world wasn’t always as honest as I was, and I needed to be more discerning about who I trusted.  Umm…so thanks for that, I guess. 

This completes my late-nineties heavy-hitter-crushes role call.  From many of you I learned good lessons, but all of you entertained me to varying degrees.  All of you and those who flittered through my life helped make me the Anastasia Firmbottom known and loved today.  Thank you all, crushes from my days of yore. 




*It totally wasn't more than a crush, but I really like that song, so I went with it.