My So-Called Love Life

When I was 16, I had a huge crush on a boy. I'd tell you his name, but I'm having a hard time remembering who I was pining for at that particular juncture. That's because in the course of four years of high school I had a crush on nearly every guy in the joint. Freshmen, seniors, jocks, nerds, preps, freaks, geeks, dweebos, wastoids. There's probably a janitor or crossing guard who remembers me giving him the sexy eyes. I was a bit fickle in my younger days.

Anyway, Valentine's Day rolled around, and I was positively dying to find a giant teddy bear strapped to the hood of my Mustang or for heart-shaped balloons and pink streamers to burst free from the confines of my locker like gag snakes popping out of a pressure can. I was broken-hearted when neither of these things happened. No chocolates, no balloons, nobody copping a cheap feel, nothing. Bupkus. I began to feel as if all the love I'd been putting out in the universe would never flow back to me. Hormones are soooo dramatic.

All I wanted was this. Someone to hold my hand and walk with me down the street.

And give me a few hugs and kisses in the parking lot. Was that so much to ask for?

 

So you can imagine how thrilled I was when I came home from school to find a large beautiful bouquet of flowers waiting for me. The card attached said, "With love, from your secret admirer." My heart swelled and pounded; my eyes widened like a kid on Christmas morning. My crush sent flowers to my very own home--this totally trumped a locker full of pink crap. Plus, he knew where I lived which meant I had a potential stalker on my hands, a dangerously sexy notion that did wonders for my pubescent ego. 

When my Dad came home from work a few hours later, he greeted me with a big hug and asked if I'd gotten anything special sent to me for Valentine's Day. WINK, WINK. My secret admirer was...my Dad? I was beyond crushed--I was flattened. At the time, nothing seemed more thrilling than the sweet beginnings of new love. I was pretty bummed that my Valentine romance lasted only 3 hours and I didn't even get to make out with anybody.

Valentine's is different now. I have no desire to receive roses that wilt or teddy bears that seem adorable in the moment, then end up in the bottom of a grocery bag before being schlepped to Goodwill. And I'm not so fickle anymore either. My sexy eyes are reserved for one dude only.

We are well past the exciting beginning of new love, but we are still pretty sweet on each other.

And I get to make out with him whenever I want. This also trumps a locker full of pink crap.

This Valentine's Day I'm not asking anyone to be mine. I'm asking him to stay mine.