Impossibly Perfect, Slightly Unattainable

I’m not really sure how to go about this. My original plan was going to make this post about my first crush ever…but there really isn’t much to that story. So, I decided to talk about the boy I mentioned in yesterday’s post, the one I crushed on…and thought I was in love with…for the majority of my childhood and teenaged years. So my life. The guy I crushed on for the majority of my life.

Let me start this by mentioning that I’ve actually crushed on a good amount of guys; it wasn’t like this one boy was the only boy I ever looked at. I’m not that creepy. Actually, my first crush ever was a son of a family friend (as was my second. And my third. And possibly my fourth). But we’re not going to talk about those boys. We’re going to focus on one, because I’m not completely insane.

Okay, so I met this kid before I even started elementary school. We’re going to call him Alex, so I can keep a bit of my dignity with me. Alex’s parent’s and my parents already knew each other, because they were all friends with this one couple, so they’d hang out together every once in a while. I didn’t really crush on Alex all the way back then, but I’m just showing you that there really has never been a time in my life when I didn’t know this freaking kid.

Fast forward to elementary school. I was in the dual language program in our school, so the curriculum was different for me than most other kids. I literally had classes with the same thirty kids for six years straight. Alex wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t in this program, so the only times I really got to see him were during lunch and recess.

And somehow, during that time, a crush emerged.

I have no recollection of how it started, or even much about the crush at all from that time, expect for this one memory from the very end of fifth grade, before moving up to middle school. All the fifth graders were in the cafeteria, signing each other’s yearbooks, and at one point, he asked me to sign his. So, obviously, I did, and asked him to sign mine, too.

I remember us joking about our last names; how mine was a word, and how his was hard to spell or pronounce. And I have no idea what came over me, or why I thought this would impress him, but I remember telling him that I knew how to spell his last name. He bet that I couldn’t do it; so when I did, his eyes lit up, and he said something like, “you’re the first person to ever get that right on the first try.”

[Note: It wasn’t my creepy little crush that helped me; I was just super good at spelling…and reading faces. And let me tell you, I have never, in my twenty-two years of life, come across a male of the human species with a good poker face. That shit says everything.]

Okay, so on with my story.

Alex being so impressed with me definitely encouraged my crush on him. So, when we went on to middle school, where the dual language program was no longer a thing, I saw Alex more frequently. I actually ended up having a lot of the same classes as him, so I saw him every day. We’d talk, and help each other with homework, and be friendly…but I don’t think we were ever actually friends. We were just kind of always there.

Mind you, I am horrible with social situations, and I’m even worse when there’s something to be nervous about. And being around a nice, attractive boy definitely made me nervous. I knew how to talk about things that didn’t matter, like homework and the weather and the school gossip, but I would go blank when it came to just about anything else. Like…a friend liking the same boy.

Which is something that happened often. In my opinion, my school didn’t have a lot of attractive boys. I didn’t know if that was because I’d known most of them since I was five years old, so I saw them as icky and annoying, or because the kind of boys that I thought were cute just didn’t go to Brentwood. But it was like every time I told a friend how I thought a boy was cute, the next day, they had a crush, too.

Teenaged girls are insane—you know that, right? God, I hope you know that.

And I was mostly friends with the artistically inclined kids, and everyone knows how dramatic they can be. At least two friends I had claimed they were pregnant at twelve years old. They were virgins. I thought they were insane, every time they’d say something remotely close to that.

So when they started showing boys like Alex interest, I didn’t know if I wanted to cry or vomit more. I was always a heavy girl, and in my middle and high school years, my sensitivity towards my weight was at its highest. Seeing my friends—who were taller and thinner and had straight, flowy hair—crush on Alex, and other boys I liked, made me resent them in a way that I thought I couldn’t.

And because I had no claim on any boy whatsoever, I hid that annoyance and resentment for years. I can very easily put my feelings to the side—and I have done so a bunch of times—for my friends, while we were growing up. It actually even helped me get over a couple of little crushes when my friends date or flirted with them, because then I would see how there was nothing more to that boy than what I made up in my own head.

As I went into high school, where there was now thousands of kids, I barely saw Alex. I rarely had a class with him, and when I did, it was almost like he was a distant memory. After watching so many girls fawn over him, and even watch him date one of my friends from elementary school, my crush faded into a dark, vast space.

Sure, he was always so nice to me, and in general, but I found that I couldn’t base a crush off of that. I feel like because I liked him for such a long time, that maybe I’ll always randomly wonder about him, but he doesn’t really mean much of anything to me, anymore. No matter how many times I’m told that he’s just getting more and more attractive. He can be hot all he wants, but that won’t change the way I feel about him anymore.

As of now, I just kind of respect his existence. I feel like everybody has that one person in their lives that seems perfect and unattainable, until they just…don’t. Alex was mine. He just doesn’t do it for me anymore.

Prompt: Write about a first of yours (first day of school, first day of work, first crush, first kiss, etc.)

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A twenty-two year old who lives through words and her Netflix account. She makes herself laugh more than others, and she claims that she is okay with that.

2 thoughts on “Impossibly Perfect, Slightly Unattainable

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