Lament for a Lost Youth

He was without a doubt the cutest guy in the Junior class.  I’ve wondered for years what happened to him;  where he went in life?  why I never saw him again? I knew he was destined to become my one true love, and I adored him. Actually, I think my crush lasted at least 6 months.  What went wrong?

We met in 3d period Study Hall.  I use the word  “met”  rather loosely, we never did really meet.  He sat in the row to my right, 4 seats ahead.  I had a perfect view of the back of his left ear as it nestled against his wavy black hair.  Or was his hair brownish?  Or more blonde?  One of those.

I tried using mental telepathy on him, staring at the back of that ear.  “TURN HEAD.  TURN HEAD LEFT,  LOOK BACK OVER SHOULDER.”  It never worked, maybe there wasn’t enough of his ear showing to get my signal.  I think he was staring ahead to his right, toward that supposedly cute little cheerleader with the annoying giggle.

My case was lost from the beginning, we had no classes together and I rarely saw him in the halls.  When we did meet, I melted.  All he saw as he glanced past me with those bright blue eyes  (or greenish?)  was a gangly nerd with cow-eyes and a beet red face, embarrassed to death, heart going pitty-pat.

I wrote his name repeatedly on my arm, scratching it on with my old fountain pen.  Remember fountain pens, the messiest means of writing ever?  They were always running dry and BLURPING all over your hands when you had to fill them.

They scratched, gouged and dug into your paper.  Just when you’d completed a readable paragraph, a great glob of ink would smear everything.  I could never find my blotter so I’d guiltily use the cuff of my blouse or sweater, knowing I’d face the  “Wrath of Mom”  after school.

The bad boys would fill their pens, aim them like guns and pull the lever back to splatter the girls.  Ballpoint  pens were invented none too soon.

So anyway, there I’d sit, covering my arm with cute little hearts and his name, over and over.  JOHN – JOHN – JOHN,  or was it  MIKE – MIKE?  I remember it was 4 letters because I drew one letter on each knuckle of my left hand.  B-E-R-T,  Yes! that was it, BERT!  How silly of me!

If only I could remember his last name as easily as I remembered the first, I’d look him up on FACEBOOK!  But I really don’t think my husband would approve.  I’ll have to live with my memories.

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One thought on “Lament for a Lost Youth

  1. For whatever reason, we were required to use a fountain pen in eighth grade. The pockets in all of my shirts ended up stained from that blasted pen that inevitably leaked.

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