My Crushes…

heartsbook

Aah, there have been so many and I now realize this is a normal part of life. I have been married to Teddy for 33 years and he is now blasé about my various crushes. They are usually my doctors and sometimes I can tell that they are reciprocated – it’s all innocent fun until you take it one step further. It mystifies me that my friend’s doctors don’t hold their hand or tell them they are beautiful… I am purring as all cougars do. 🙂

My first crush was a pretty little boy in Primary school called Gerald with big brown eyes and a mass of dark curls. He went onto a seminary at 12 – perhaps I frightened him into celibacy? At High School, my first crush was on a boy called Jamie and nobody could understand why. I used to write funny stories for friends and at our 25th reunion (we were all 42), they all howled with laughter at my story that plagiarized Wuthering Heights. The final chapter involved Jamie and I, the nanny, meeting in the hallway in our nightwear. We hadn’t had our sex education classes yet so I didn’t know what happened next. That crush disappeared as soon as he got acne – I am so shallow.

The most lingering crush I had during high school years was with the librarian at our local public library. My childhood wasn’t always happy so I retreated into the world of books. I read my way through the children’s library and at 14 could move onto the adult library. I guess he was about 4 years older than me, fresh out of school working as a library assistant. It was pretty obvious that I had a crush on him, all big eyes and smiles. He kindly flirted back and joked about how many books I read. I suspect he thought I was making excuses to go to the library but I genuinely read six books a week. By the time I got to college I had read most of the library’s books.

Moving on in time, I was in my third year of college, just before I started dating The Spark. I think I was 19, wearing something that made me look like a ‘ho, and full of fun. My girlfriend and I bumped into the LIBRARIAN and his friend at some college function. Initially, it was SO exciting – chatting about how much I had changed, Catholic school girl to ‘ho. (Blondie was my role model). He had decided to go to college later in life and had left the library. He was still handsome and revealed that he had also had a crush on me which titillated me. Then we kissed and there was nothing – no spark, so sexual attraction just a faded crush. Curiously, he seemed really sad that I wasn’t interested but the hunt was on for my next boy to predate. I am really a very nice, kind person but my hormones seemed to take over, leaving a trail of broken hearts behind me. Sorry to all those nice guys I predated and unceremoniously dumped.

The Spark

firework

We have all had that moment of instant sexual attraction. I looked across at my husband when I first saw him at a party and had that spark. Mostly it was, ‘Look at that ass!’ This post is about how deceptive it can be. When I started college I had to take two buses to get to my campus. After a few days, I noticed that a handsome young man was taking the same two buses and going to another college close to mine. There was plenty of time to look at each other because the journey took over an hour. I was 17 and very shy – today I would just sit next to him and start chatting. So, for a whole year we just gave each other meaningful glances but nothing happened.

The following year we had moved to two different campuses but still had to take the same bus route. Given that we caught the same bus (and there were plenty of them) and I think we were deliberately planning our encounters. He wasn’t really my usual type; dark, Black Irish probably and serious looking. Another year went past and as we went into our third year of college, I noticed he was now at the same college as me. Still no smile, no talking – just looking. I had split up (again) with my fiancé and I was ‘on the sniff’, as they so delicately put it in Scotland. I still remember what I was wearing that night – a gypsy peasant dress, red with little flowers all over it. My girlfriend and I had gone to the university disco and suddenly THAT guy asked me to dance. My stomach turned over with excitement and anticipation. It didn’t take long for us to figure out that we both had been lusting over each other and when he kissed me – wow!

We started dating and discovered that only did we live in parallel streets but our mothers’ were friends. They were both excited that their children were courting. A strange thing happened on our first date, the day after we met at the disco. His dark stubble was abrasive on my skin and my face broke out in boils. Yes, not zits but horrible large boils – it was an omen… As time progressed we started getting more intimate and even though he was only about 20 years old he had performance issues. He was humiliated and I was perplexed. I knew he had recently had other girlfriends and he insisted that performance was not an issue with them. He told me that he was overwhelmed by my looks, intellect and for lack of a better word, classiness. Although I was mystified, it was obvious that he was telling me the truth.

I was equally overwhelmed that he had no body odor – after a night out in a hot disco he smelled of fresh washing. You would think that would be a good thing but as you know I am an earthy girl see this post Resolution No. 1 – Wash More. I felt intimidated by my own pheromones and natural scent. Since we were now at the same college we were invited to a party, as a couple, hosted by my rowdy male classmates. At some stage in the debauchery, my friends lifted me up and put me on top of the kitchen table to dance – normal behavior for us. This brought out a glowering, possessive and unpleasant new boyfriend who started behaving aggressively towards my friends. I had to stop a potential fight and the next day, at college, my friends urged me to break up with him.

I was considering this anyway because that initial spark of sexual attraction (and very long lasting crush) hadn’t evolved into anything and now that I knew his personality better, he started becoming unattractive to me. We ended our relationship acrimoniously but still had to spend our last year at the same college and take the same bus route. We just pretended that neither existed and I went back ‘on the sniff’. More spark stories to come – no pun intended… 🙂

Skeleton in the family closet

aunt gladys
The beautiful lady above is a great aunt on my father’s side.  I knew nothing about her until I found all my American cousins through Ancestry when I returned to live in the USA.  Some of our family knowledge is disappearing with each generation dying but I found an older relative through my third cousins who was able to tell me precise details.  My paternal great grandmother, for example, for a formidable lady with black eyes and hair (Native American genetics) and a stern demeanor.  She married in North Texas and finally settled in Tucumcari in New Mexico.  One very cold November I went to visit her and my great-grandfather’s grave.  It was the strangest feeling trying to connect with a gravestone and the place where they lived.

Most of my relatives now live in California and I went on a wonderful trip to see some brand new relatives.  It was hot and I was wearing shorts.  My cousin, Lily, who was in her 70s by then gasped when she saw me and said I had the legs of the anonymous beautiful lady above.  At that stage I hadn’t seen a photograph but I hoped it was a compliment and it was.  We started chatting about her and it became obvious that one side of the family knew a secret about her that the other side didn’t. “Wasn’t she a high class hooker”?, said one to the shocked silence of everyone else.  Then it all started coming together – why did she have a suite of rooms in a hotel when she could have lived in her parents home?

My response, to break the tension, was, “Well if it goes belly-up in oil, perhaps I will have a new career with these legs!”  Hilarity ensued, albeit with one of those looks from my husband…  Before I wrote this post I checked about defamation of the dead because it is all second hand news to me.  I decided not to name her as I noticed there were some other relatives on our family website who might not know about these allegations.  My cousin remembered that she retired to Beverley Hills, smoked incessantly and wore adorable little mohair sweaters.  My great aunt gave her one of her sweaters but it had to be washed endlessly and put out on the line to get the smell of smoke out of it.

I have thought about her often and wondered why anyone would choose to become a hooker, high class or otherwise.  She is certainly a looker and ended up being wealthy.  What I would give to talk to her!