You remember the feeling. Butterflies in your tummy - when you're not sure if you're nauseous or happy. Heat rising to the tips of your ears where you feel like everyone in the world is watching your face turn as red as an apple. Stumbling over words certain that every missed syllable will be a tell-tale sign to your admired that you're smitten. You remember what it's like to be head over heels in puppy love.
Puppy love is funny. And it's not really love. It's just when we learn to experience what it will feel like when things get to be real at some point. It's when your heart and life are waking up to the knowledge that you can experience more than disgust at the opposite gender and realize that maybe their "cooties" aren't such bad things after all. :)
For me, it was when I realized that I kind of liked the smell of boys. I know, it's a weird thing, but I'm incredibly attracted to men that smell nice...or smell of masculine energy. Don't ask me what that is, it's just something I know when I sense it. Let's just say that they don't smell of roses and lavender.
So my early dating experiences weren't really dating or "going" anywhere, even though the term was "going with" a boy. Yeah, that never happened for me. I think I trembled with too much insecure fear to believe that a boy really liked me for me. So inevitably I found myself almost laughing when I had a string of boys who thought I was pretty cool. But then again, the losers I encountered....
And then of course there came the one boy who wrote me "love" notes in his 'gangsta' style at camp one year....where he told me that I sang just like Mariah Carey. Yeah...are you laughing? cuz I did. Tell me that guy didn't have something else up his sleeve, all along? Even at the tender age of 12, I knew he was up to something. Fail.
Oh and let's see - there was the boy who once tried to plant a kiss when he hugged me but wound up slobbering all over my cheek. Yeah, he didn't know what he was doing either. Fail.
There are then of course, the two....the two dear friends who at various times I had a crush on and they apparently rather liked me at various moments too, but never did anything about it. Except get in a fight between the two of them about it and yet...somehow, neither of the geniuses let ME in on the fact that I had two rather handsome options available. Instead, a scuffle seemed to be the better solution. Fail and Fail.
One of those two did eventually ask me out for my first "official" date a few years later. But...guess what? He arranged a double date with my big brother and his 'just friend' ....talk about awkward. Oh and dare I mention he was seeing a gal who lived DOWN THE STREET from me at the same time? So of course, I could see his car at her house the next day. He joined the navy two months later. EPIC FAIL.
And then there was the hanger - on. He was sweet as can be, but did not how to take no for an answer. My first lesson in rejecting a guy. He lived across the street and attended my church. He was head over heels for me, apparently. But was younger, too ...well, not my kind of guy...He asked me to be his girlfriend in a "Check yes or no" kind of note. No, I'm not lying about this. We were 17 and 15 respectively, so I'm thinking a "check yes or no" kind of box really was rather immature. And of course, when I said no, he didn't give up. He kept right on. Calling, mailing notes, following me around like a puppy dog at church. Yeah, I couldn't get away from him. FAIL.
Ah the early years, what grand fun.
Oh and shall we even begin to mention all the lovely boys who my admiring eyes clapped upon but cared not for my interest? Nah, no need to fill your mind with the nascent stages of rejection, we'll get to the fully birthed versions later on.
There was, however, one 'date' I recall that I was allowed to dress up for, and where the fellow was quite nice to me at a homecoming banquet. But he was simply nice....and there was no attraction there, to my knowledge. Might have had a little something to do with the fact that I had eyes on someone else at the time...which hearkens back to the previous paragraph....but at least that night wasn't a fail...except that he kept me out a bit (A LOT) past curfew (3am anyone?) and I was most certainly in hot water. Ah well, in spite of his gentlemanly-ness....that was an a fail too.
So, the early years...full of boys who just stumbled over themselves like they were fumbling in the dark at best. Poor guys.
So, in this, the second post of Radically Single...I discovered that boys stumble and fumble worse than my poor Dallas Cowboys this last two seasons...Maybe that's why I love football so much, at least there, you can throw penalty flags. Each one of these guys would've gotten varying degrees. From 5 yards for the curfew breaker to 1/2 the distance to the goal being handed out to the face-slobberer. Yeah...FLAG on the play. ALL of the plays.
If you're hoping for better opportunities....well, keep your eyes peeled for the next set.