“It’s like I’m blowing kisses in the wind, giving you love that you haven’t been given. I cross my heart and hope to die. I’m only wishing you’d love me like I… Blowing kisses in the wind. Waiting, waiting, waiting for you is like blowing, blowing kisses.” ~Paula Abdul Paula Abdul was my adolescence. “Rush, … Continue reading Blowing Kisses
She was perfect. Her skin was a smooth, dark chocolate, mocha maybe, her lips a contrasting pink. Every time I saw her my heart literally skipped a beat (seriously, check with my doctor), but to her I was always just a friend. Maybe to her I was even “little brother” material because she sure enough treated me like it, even when I went out of my way to remind her that we weren’t related, that she could and should see me in a different light.
We met at church, like a lot of people do, when we were both just out of the cradle, it seemed. Perhaps that’s where the “brother” feelings originated for her. I don’t think I’ll ever really know, if she herself even knows. I hadn’t seen her as a possible love interest then either. It wasn’t love at first sight, but there was always something about her that was ethereal, transcendent even. I think I knew even when we were little kids that there was a spark there I would like to explore later. That set us apart.
It was always more than just a crush, too. Now, I’m not saying that I knew what love was way back then, but I did know that I wanted more than what friends had. I was probably around 10 when I first realized I wanted to be more than friends. I began writing about her daily in my journal, thinking about her more and more as time went by, and finding excuses to spend more time with her both in and out of church. I even joined several groups just to be near her.
But I never once told her how I felt. I think maybe I was just too shy to approach anything like that with her. Or perhaps I was just deathly afraid of rejection. Maybe I figured it was better to be a well-respected friend than to possibly mess things up if she didn’t say she felt the same. It’s always awkward after that. Continue reading “Crush Crush Crush”
The year was 1992, and I was as frightened as a turtle who can’t find his shell. After being summarily dismissed from Blue Mountain Academy at the beginning of my junior year, I was rudderless, finally coming in to port three weeks later at the third largest public school in Philadelphia. I was overwhelmed from … Continue reading Why I Got an “F” in Chemistry