As a kid, I had a mild crush on a certain girl that I lived next door to. And by ‘mild crush’ I mean ‘severe obsessive infatuation’. I’d sit on the porch and watch for her when she came home and sit by the window in the morning to see her get in the car and go to school – pathetically smitten was I. One day I mentioned this to a friend who was slightly older and he told me that I should tell her something. So, after weeks of procrastination and internal debate, I told her to meet me behind a certain building that was under construction nearby. Heart beating, palm sweaty, behind a building, I struggled to get the words out. ‘I….I mean…uh…I…’ Deep breath, try again. ‘I really….uh….I…’ OK, maybe you’re saying it wrong. Find another way to say it. ‘Uh…well…do you like me cause I think I like you.’ Finally!
She replied ‘Was that a question?’
‘I guess so.’
‘Then yeah, I guess I do.’
Oh joy. I grinned with 50 teeth, pushing my ears so high up, I’m sure they were touching over my head. Then she pulled a sobering darkness that put an end to my intoxicating moment in the sun.
‘So what now?’
This story surfaced from the recesses of my mind as I read the debate on marriage last week: riveting stuff. I abstained from commenting because I had had that conversation before. Many times. Continue reading