SCOOP THAT BLOOP

If you were so unfortunate as to spend some time alone with me during my mello-dramatic, sordid pubescent years, you certainly heard some talk of one special crush of mine. At an extremely young age, I was devastatingly smitten by one boy I knew only through my sister's dating life. Kelli had a certain boyfriend for one summer or so, and he had brothers (cue heavenly chorus). Being the thirteen-year-old I was and wanting so badly to be just like my super cool big sister (don't laugh. Kelli has always rocked her nerdiness in a very cool, confident way. Ok, now even Kelli is probably laughing), I fell as in love with Kelli's friends as an overly dramatic baby-teen can. I was absolutely nuts about them. Especially the age-appropriate brother. :)

We'll call him Amos. Amos was dazzling in my eyes. Simply gorgeous, brilliant, hilarious, and slightly mysterious. He fed every idealistic movie-matched dream I ever had about what a first love should be. I hung on his every word, though few, and lived my life, for a time, by what I thought would fit to his interest. There was just one problem. Amos didn't know I existed.

Being a talented, fairly attractive young girl who knew darn well that she was talented, smart, and probably had a lot going for her, I was greatly hurt by the lack of attention from Amos and his kin. What was wrong with this kid?! There I was, a fabulous young girl, gloriously geeky, dying for him to look my way, making an absolute idiot of myself just to become friends with him, and he hardly noticed. Or if he did, he laughed quietly and turned his head (which is more than likely the case). Amos took up most of the space in my head most of the time. Silly girl that I am and have always been, I didn't think to change my mind about him. I let it eat away at me, confused at whose opinion was correct, his or mine. Self esteem being chipped away each time he didn't respond to my attempts, I spent far too much energy on this kid. He was polite, asked me to dance at dances, and even asked me on a couple of dates in our later teens, though I am sure that was attributed more to his mother's encouragement than to his interest (she knew me and my affections well through church and violin lessons, as he daughters had the same private teacher I did).

I tried to play it cool and act like I couldn't have cared less about Amos' opinion (or the opinions of anyone I associated with him). I wasn't fooling anyone. Certainly not myself. To this day, I still feel twinges of romance and butterflies in the tummy and "oh my gosh, he's here!" moments and magical, heart skipping a beat feelings whenever I think of him. Silly, yes, but enjoyable to have those memories, fruitless though they may have been. It was something of a music video in my mind, and everything fell perfectly into sync when I saw him or even thought of him... execpt for me. I became ridiculous. I fumbled over every word, I spit little embarrassing droplets of saliva when I spoke, I tripped on everything, I turned red no matter what, I made stupid faces, never said the right thing, and all the while I could see him losing what little interest he said he had when we were 13 (oh yes, we have discussed it since... More embarrassment...).

My final attempt at forming even a simple friendship with this wonderful young man (yes, he is still wonderful in my eyes... I am well aware of his flaws, but he is still my magical first "love") was over two years ago at a very low point of my life. You all probably remember this guy I dated named Nick. Yeah, I sort of had the blues, and was addicted to vicaden. So was Amos, as it turned out, though his was prescribed and mine was stolen. We spoke on the phone about twice per week for a bit. I enjoyed this very much. Apparently he didn't. He stopped answering and returning my calls after a few weeks. Got bored, I suppose. Irritated. Tired. Who knows? Who cares? It hurt. How stupid that it hurt after all these years of rejection, but it did.

Over the last few years, I have spent a great deal of time reminding myself to decide who I will be for ME, and nobody else. I like the person I've become. I didn't for a good long time, so this is significant. I truly do like the person I am, and I think I'm terribly interesting and great to be around. Some days I even think I am pretty dang cute.

Ever heard the phrase "chasing the skeleton"? Drug addicts "chase a skeleton" when they continue to use their drug of choice for years and years, though they can never achieve that same high as on their first use. They attempt to get that high every time they use. This is where overdosing can be dangerously easy. Some are so desperate for that "first time" feeling that they use way too much or way too often and end up dead.

Meet Laura, admitted romance addict.

I have always dated. Never stopped, really. Since my first boyfriend at age 13, just a few months before I met Amos. All kinds of boys. Every shape, size, and color. I just give off a really strong "single" radar, and they show up every time I'm not dating someone exclusively. Or perhaps I find them... Very rarely have I been "single" for consecutive months since I was a young teen. Talk about a romance junkie. Is my self-esteem that low, really?

Anyway, I have tried not to chase my Amos "skeleton", but it keeps happening. I keep searching for someone that I can go absolutely gaga over, rarely finding it and knowing full well that's not what a good relationship is founded on. It has happened once since Amos. That person turned out to be insane, and the whole thing ended rather sloppily. Laura apparently loves insane people. I was pretty crazy about Scott, but it took some work to get me there. I wasn't instantly nuts about him, nor him for me. We had to decide. Is it so bad that I don't want to have to decide? Can I pretty please have movie mushy first moment romance?

No, Laura. Grow up.

I love the ones that don't love me. I hate that about myself, but I just always seem to go crazy for the guys that aren't interested in me the least bit. But only the ones who SHOULD be interested in me. The smart, funny, slightly odd, colorful characters I meet once a year or so. The Amoses. Typically, the musicians.

Silly Laura. Stop doing that.

Well it's happening again. I'm doing it right this stupid second. I get those "favorite song swelling in the background", "feels like I could fly" feelings for NO GOOD REASON! Snap out of it, Laura. It's just a boy. And, quite clearly, "He's Just Not That Into You" (great book). Moving on.

I know what appropriate dating is. I'm constantly preaching it. It's time I learned to do it.



Well there you have it. Those are the things dwelling in the background of my mind this week. It has been an insane week! The show is fast approaching, and finals are close behind. It will all be worth it! The show is looking good! Come see it!

A side note; I hate it when my body doesn't do what I tell it to. This week, however, it has behaved quite nicely. Thank you, body.