When I was fifteen, I realized with both horror and pleasure that I was in love with guys. I noticed that they were no longer 'boys'; now they were 'guys.' Up until this point in time, contact with the opposite sex had scared the living daylights out of me.
Then, suddenly, the gawky pre-teen boys transformed into handsome, mature, straight-from-a romance novel 'guys.' Suddenly, every movement was monitored, every conversation was absorbed, and every blink a guy took was counted. When I was in junior high, my friends and I were sure that our crushes noticed each stalker-like movement we made. Actually, I realize now, they were oblivious.
Shaniqua and Andrea, my two best friends, were infatuated with Boston and Toby, respectively. I took to Albert- a shy, tall, blue-eyed bass who stood behind me in choir. Boston was a loud one who was just crawling out of his class clown shell and discovering his hidden talent for flirting without the archaic techniques of pulling hair and teasing. Toby was also on the quiet side, but he was keenly aware that half the girls at the junior high were already planning their weddings with him.
To 'accidentally' run into our 'special someone' we would plan out our days' itinerary with more care than a rocket scientist computing the launch time for the next shuttle. We would arrive at school just as their bus was pulling up, get a drink from the fountain right outside their first period class, position ourselves directly in their line of sight at lunch, hire our older sisters to drive us past their house, make shrines for them in our room, and call them only to hang up the phone when they answered. To put it bluntly, we were in 'like'.
Yet we hardly ever came in direct contact with our idols. When we did, it was taken down in a notebook we jointly shared. The conversation was recorded verbatim next to date and time, a detailed description of the clothing he was wearing at the time of incident, facial expression and body language, and a through analysis of the conversation's inner meaning. The dates of specific advances in the crusade were lauded and made into national holidays.
Our moments of trepidation came when we were convinced that the guys were catching on to our intents.
"Did he see me blush?"
"I was staring at him too much."
"We started laughing right as he walked past. If he doesn't know now then he never will."
Shaniqua was right. They never would. Their oblivion would only be broken by a blatent confession of enamoration, and even then they would still be clueless. That was two years ago, and I daresay that Toby and Albert still have no idea. Boston, on the other hand, was informed, of course, two years after Shaniqua's obsession passed. I told him, and the funny thing was he never even had a clue!
Then, suddenly, the gawky pre-teen boys transformed into handsome, mature, straight-from-a romance novel 'guys.' Suddenly, every movement was monitored, every conversation was absorbed, and every blink a guy took was counted. When I was in junior high, my friends and I were sure that our crushes noticed each stalker-like movement we made. Actually, I realize now, they were oblivious.
Shaniqua and Andrea, my two best friends, were infatuated with Boston and Toby, respectively. I took to Albert- a shy, tall, blue-eyed bass who stood behind me in choir. Boston was a loud one who was just crawling out of his class clown shell and discovering his hidden talent for flirting without the archaic techniques of pulling hair and teasing. Toby was also on the quiet side, but he was keenly aware that half the girls at the junior high were already planning their weddings with him.
To 'accidentally' run into our 'special someone' we would plan out our days' itinerary with more care than a rocket scientist computing the launch time for the next shuttle. We would arrive at school just as their bus was pulling up, get a drink from the fountain right outside their first period class, position ourselves directly in their line of sight at lunch, hire our older sisters to drive us past their house, make shrines for them in our room, and call them only to hang up the phone when they answered. To put it bluntly, we were in 'like'.
Yet we hardly ever came in direct contact with our idols. When we did, it was taken down in a notebook we jointly shared. The conversation was recorded verbatim next to date and time, a detailed description of the clothing he was wearing at the time of incident, facial expression and body language, and a through analysis of the conversation's inner meaning. The dates of specific advances in the crusade were lauded and made into national holidays.
Our moments of trepidation came when we were convinced that the guys were catching on to our intents.
"Did he see me blush?"
"I was staring at him too much."
"We started laughing right as he walked past. If he doesn't know now then he never will."
Shaniqua was right. They never would. Their oblivion would only be broken by a blatent confession of enamoration, and even then they would still be clueless. That was two years ago, and I daresay that Toby and Albert still have no idea. Boston, on the other hand, was informed, of course, two years after Shaniqua's obsession passed. I told him, and the funny thing was he never even had a clue!
2 comments:
I totally agree. Well written. I love you. i'm your secret stalker
Wow! I totally knew who you were talking about... you need to disguise them more than that unless you want me to have a window into your deepest soul.
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