Throwback: I Knew A Boy Once
He was sweet, and had the cutest smile in the world. It was unbelievable, the way his smile used to light up my world. I used to think about him a lot, and wonder why he never made a move. Because our eyes always said it all.
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| Photo by Rou on Unsplash |
I was ten. He was twelve. I thought he was the coolest guy in the world.
Sound cliche? I don't know. If it were all about the cliche, it should have worked out just fine, right?
Like all those barbecues together. Playing football, the only ever times I played football, and I liked it. I wanted to be good at it, to impress him. Making endless lame jokes, and... all those things. I always remember these things as one huge bundle of fun memories. Don't lets forget those 'innocent' sleepovers, where everything except our kiddish minds were innocent. And I think I can speak for the both of us, because he was probably thinking worse than I was.
The Christmases and the New Years spent together, sipping wines from the parental cups and playing monopoly and watching television and all of us fighting with each other. And always, always, trying to be with him, as inconspicuously as possible.
Fooling around in Church, during Mass, and at all those lame and insufferable Christeen Retreats. The only reason I smile and say, "Fuck, those were fun" when I think of them was because he was around, with that smile that I will describe as 'angelic' because that is the proper word for it. He was a nice, proper little altar boy around the parents. But that smile would take on a cheeky, flirtatious edge to it around us girls, sans parental supervision.
The water park on my thirteenth, that bead necklace I treasured for ever so long, even after the thread snapped.
The perfect childhood romance, with practically every cliche filled in.
So what went wrong? I'm not sure, except maybe that we dated each other. Kind of a letdown? Nope, not really. It was perfect before, so it couldn't go up anymore. So yeah, things had to go downhill from there.
Eight years down the line, the coolest guy in the world annoys the fuck out of me. And plays on my frayed nerves until I snap, and be mean.
I feel sorry sometimes, but not really all the time, and not all the time enough. But somethings were perfect when left unfinished, and that's where two little kids who were in love made their mistake.
Sound cliche? I don't know. If it were all about the cliche, it should have worked out just fine, right?
Like all those barbecues together. Playing football, the only ever times I played football, and I liked it. I wanted to be good at it, to impress him. Making endless lame jokes, and... all those things. I always remember these things as one huge bundle of fun memories. Don't lets forget those 'innocent' sleepovers, where everything except our kiddish minds were innocent. And I think I can speak for the both of us, because he was probably thinking worse than I was.
The Christmases and the New Years spent together, sipping wines from the parental cups and playing monopoly and watching television and all of us fighting with each other. And always, always, trying to be with him, as inconspicuously as possible.
Fooling around in Church, during Mass, and at all those lame and insufferable Christeen Retreats. The only reason I smile and say, "Fuck, those were fun" when I think of them was because he was around, with that smile that I will describe as 'angelic' because that is the proper word for it. He was a nice, proper little altar boy around the parents. But that smile would take on a cheeky, flirtatious edge to it around us girls, sans parental supervision.
The water park on my thirteenth, that bead necklace I treasured for ever so long, even after the thread snapped.
The perfect childhood romance, with practically every cliche filled in.
So what went wrong? I'm not sure, except maybe that we dated each other. Kind of a letdown? Nope, not really. It was perfect before, so it couldn't go up anymore. So yeah, things had to go downhill from there.
Eight years down the line, the coolest guy in the world annoys the fuck out of me. And plays on my frayed nerves until I snap, and be mean.
I feel sorry sometimes, but not really all the time, and not all the time enough. But somethings were perfect when left unfinished, and that's where two little kids who were in love made their mistake.
Written November 16, 2010
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