December 3, 2024:
“You look like the Wicked Witch of the West”
My first experiences flirting with the opposite sex were quite amusing, because I actually was doing the opposite of gaining positive attention, rather I just gained a very negative outcome. After my conversations with others on the subject, I have noticed that no matter the gender or sexual preference, others have had similar humous experiences. I plan to relay these amusing stories from myself and others on regular basis, because I want to put all of the snap shots into one big collage.
Perhaps the best illustration of this was an experience I had around the sixth grade. My sister who was six years older had gone on a trip to Toronto for some school event. I was in my family’s little Ford Aerostar minivan with my mother and father, we were picking up my sister and her friend from the aiport. I had a huge crush on my sisters friend Sarah, and when they got in the car, I looked right at Sarah and blurted out “You look just like the Wicked Witch of the West!” She turned back and looked at me for a second, and then “Smack!” She slapped me right accross the face. My mom and dad looked at each other for a moment, they shrugged as if to say, “Well, he did say she looked like the Wicked Witch of the West.” And then they turned forward like nothing had happend.
Initially, connecting with the one you fancy is very simple. I remember having a best friend/girlfriend early on, even before five hears old. Katie and I were a thing, drinking out of our pea green Tupperware sippy cups and eating popsicles on the front porch. There was also Miggie (it was pronounced Mee Gee, and I really don’t know the spelling), an indigenous Canadian girl that went to my church. I remember dancing around her back yard singing and shouting “We are getting married!” I even had two ring pops, one for each of us.
However, around first grade, things became more complicated. I remember having a crush on this girl named Loma. Eventually, I told my father about liking Loma, and noticing she did not like me. I was disdraught, and my dad tried to help me. It took a long time for me to discover that my dad was socially off, but his advice was definately an early sign that I missed. He made a card for me in his artsy penmanship that said, “This is from the boy that you do not like.” Then he picked some weeds from the back yard, made a flower boquet, and told me to give it to her. She was not amused, and really didn’t start to talk to me again until sixth grade.