Wednesday, August 30, 2006

My crush

Janet at The Art of Getting By has asked, in her Tell it to Me Tuesday post about first crushes. Not the fairytale kind where you wind up getting married and living happily ever after, but the other kind. Where you're invisible. Or things go horribly wrong.

Mine's actually boring. The invisible kind. I was in high school, freshman year. He'd been held back and the next year he disappeared (I suspect that he dropped out of school). He had long strawberry blonde hair, light blue eyes and wore bell-bottom jeans with a tee-shirt and a long-sleeved chambray shirt over it - the ultimate cool uniform at my school. I was friends with his sister, and spoke to him on occasion, but never confessed my feelings. I would just gaze longingly at his bus as it drove by the corner where I waited for my mom to pick me up. My brothers never knew the name of the guy, but always called him "Bus 66" when teasing me.

Out of curiosity, I googled him. I know for a fact that he's not the fencing champion. The picture looks NOTHING like him. But he could possibly be a computer professor at Georgetown. The picture is close, but the guy has short hair and looks remarkably like my mother's cousin Fred. Somehow, that doesn't seem likely either, but hey - I don't look much like I did in high school either!


Janet said...

Things like the internet have changed the whole "I wonder whatever happened to?.." factor, hasn't it?:)

A belated thanks for playing belatedly!:)

Natsthename said...

I never thought of googling my first crush! Perhaps I should!! ENjoyed the story!

Alice in Wonderbread said...

This fact can backfire quickly though if you blog your findings. I blogged about finding my old rock and roll hs sweetie and two days later I got an email from him! Well- it was nice at first, knowing he knows I'm a different person now, but I was stupid and kept in touch for a while, causing him and me much pain in the end. The past, although nice to gloss over, belongs in the past- and unfortunately I learned the hard way that unrequited love and broken hearts still leave scars and sometimes, no matter what you say or do, the hurt remains because it is just a part of you and always will be.

Talking with him resembled the faint satisfaction of scratching a scab off. Same effect too, emotionally.