My first crush in America was in second grade. Brunette and brown-eyed with a gentle laugh and smile. I used to look forward to seeing him out at recess because he didn’t mind being “it” playing tag with all us squealing girls.
It wasn’t until junior high when, by chance, we found ourselves attending the same school again. However, my perspective of life and perhaps venturing into love had changed by then. That junior high would be my seventh school. Unfortunately, certain towns and communities had managed to psychologically put my family in its minority’s place, drawing me to fight the belief that I was not to see a brunette, brown-eyed boy to ever love me.
Although I didn’t want to believe it, sadly, upon seeing my long-ago crush with his group of friends from a distance in the hallways quietly and saying nothing when I looked their way, I was given the impression that he had forgotten about that girl he used to love chasing around during recess; he had forgotten me.
Each time I tried to look his way, those brown eyes somehow would avoid my very own. I took that as confirmation that in HIS eyes, the world was right- he and I were two different kinds, never to be.
Due to school integration, by chance, again, brown eyes and I attended the same high school. This time, he was in my neighborhood. By then, and perhaps feeling as if he was now seeing my world, I had accepted this first crush of mine as someone whom I just knew in the past. I would see him time to time during passing period out in the hallways, just as I did in junior high. And just like in junior high, I would only see him avoid my gaze, seemingly acting odd whenever I tried to even come close to him, never managing to say a word to me. His discomforting actions were just stronger confirmation that our worlds were and always had been different.
Little did I know that while I proved the world and its people to be wrong, never conforming to the message that the exterior makeup of a soul was the determinant of oneness, what came to be about my brown-eyed crush was truly his own battle to lose.
I remember that call. It didn’t take long for me to recognize the voice. In fact, it was almost instantaneous. Although the voice had grown up a bit from second grade, I had kept ear of its developing maturity throughout the years from across the halls. It was him, my brunette, brown-eyed past. He sounded nervous, stumbling upon his words. From his behavior, I immediately began to understand why the silence for so many years, but simultaneously in disbelief. All of a sudden, an uncontrollable reaction came over me upon hearing the stumbles and hesitation in his voice- a rage of anger entering my entire soul.
Giving him no chance to continue after hearing him manage to finally ask me if I would go to prom with him, I began yelling. As his voice desperately tried to calm me down, trying to introduce himself the best way he could between my outrage, I exclaimed how I knew exactly who he was. As if I didn’t know! I was enraged of his request- his audacity to ask if I would go with him to our senior prom together! After all those years of not looking into my eyes or talking to me! With intense fury and perhaps, great offense in my voice, I told him that I was already going with someone else and “No!” I would not be going to the prom with him. All I could remember was the trailing sound of the sadness and confusion of his voice before I hung up the phone. He would never understand my fury.
How do I explain this to you, my brunette, brown-eyed first ever crush? You led me to believe that the world I found myself thrown in that had somehow wanted to convince me that you and I could never be had been right, at least with you, because upon my return, you only confirmed this to be true. All those years I looked your way only to see you avoid my gaze, looking away each time I made attempts to meet eye contact with you. You failing to strike even a mere conversation with me, just giggling a nervous laugh as you would walk away, sometimes saying absolutely nothing, leaving me with a sense of void as I held my head up. Now, here you are, after all those years without saying a word to me, leading me to believe I was merely a forgotten past only for you to finally try and explain that you didn’t know how…
I was angry. Angry of the deception. Angry of not knowing that while all that time I thought you never remembered me or thought nothing more of me, your reason was that you actually couldn’t find the words to talk to me. I was angry for having fought to hold my dignity each time you looked or walked away without a word. You dared toil with my mind to a point where I gave up on you. You dared giving me your silence for so many of our school years, drawing me to believe you did not see the gem in me I believed myself to be. You dared to wait to tell me different from what YOU led me to accept all that time you had a chance. I failed in reading you to the fault of you not opening up all those years. It was not my failure to accept.
Of all people who helped me to understand this is my dearest husband of almost three decades now. Funny what help you get from the one man who actually did find the courage to not only talk to you, but never let you go.
I know now that what we women think at times as a rejection (this one, being YEARS), is actually quite the opposite: the mere intimidation of your presence. What a ridiculous flaw of human attraction.
I am grateful for the man I married who exemplifies strength and protectiveness. I wouldn’t change him for the world. I am and will always be devoted to my one and only husband. I just think to myself that sadly, because brown eyes failed to look back my way, meet my gaze, or speak a word to me all those years I had hoped he would, I inadvertently crushed my first-ever crush when he finally managed to take the chance. What could have been had become years too late.
My message to all dads out there with young boys is to tell them this, “Fight for what you want to be yours today. For tomorrow, the treasure may already be taken by someone else. It isn’t yours until IT IS YOURS. Fight for it! And once you have it, hold onto it with all your might.” Otherwise, the gem was never meant to be yours in the first place.
