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standard February 19, 2007 1 response

I’m one of those girls who will answer “Three” to the question “how many guys?”. You know “the first one, the wrong one and you.” Except for me it was “the really wrong one, the one who never fell in love with me and my darling husband.” I was not so much the adventurous one when it came to love or romance. (I know my mom and dad are thrilled to read about this…)
But crushes? Crushes I had. I probably had a crush on almost every guy in my class in high school. I went to a bilingual school in the heart of Paris (France) and we had people from all over the country. Strangely enough I was particularly attracted to the guys who spoke fluent English. (Big surprise. I married an American boy.)
There was the bad boy. The rebel who wore a black trench-coat and had long hair. He tortured me by treating me like a cute, but pesky, kid sister. I swear he used to ruffle my hair. Drove me nuts.
There was the other bad boy. He was an incredibly cute alcoholic. So good looking. Incredibly smart. Never ever spoke to me. Except maybe once, to ask me what time it was. That was a great day. He ended up dating the school’s ice queen. They were a perfect match, brilliant, gorgeous, and totally unattainable.
There was the shy boy, my longest crush ever. The one I stalked with my camera so I could get a picture to gaze at him at my leisure. The one I tried to sit next to, or close to, in class so he might ask me for a pen or some paper. (Now that I think about it, I’m a little mortified about how obvious I was, and I’m not really surprised that he used to avoid me like the plague.) That crush ended brutally on the day that I got close enough to smell his breath. It’s very hard to fantasize about kissing someone when the very thought turns your stomach. To be honest, he may well have been the very last real crush I ever had. Shortly after that I met the boy who would be the very, very wrong one and that was the end of that.
I don’t miss that feeling of helplessness, of longing for something unattainable. That longing that never goes away. I’m glad that I’ve learned to do something pro-active about getting what I want. I wasted so much time and energy longing for those poor boys. Had I ever gotten close to any of them I’m sure I would have realized none of them were that great a catch. Beer breath anyone?

This post was inspired by the Sunday Scribblings prompt Crush.

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1 response

  • I enjoyed your story of crushes. Sometimes they all seem so pointless in retrospect but I guess we needed them to learn something.

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