The one who just wouldn't go away

Dear first love,

Please stop flirting with me. I've loved you since 1993. Now you're married with 3 kids. Every time you say something sweet and endearing, my heart breaks a little more. Enough now. Enough.

Sincerely, Heartbroken Girl.

Found this on "Dear Blank, Please Blank" today. Reminded me to share an update with you.

Please check out parts 1 & 2 of this story. But the gist is that I'm probably in love with the boy I dated at summer camp when I was 13 for like 2 weeks. Firecrotch was my first boyfriend and my first kiss. He liked to toy with my emotions and take advantage of them with things like calling me at two in the morning on a regular basis because he knew I would pick up, things like that.

Part 1

Part 2

After that wedding I saw him at with the "most perfect woman in the world" I emailed him saying that I needed to speak with him (to spill my guts and tell him for the second time that I have feelings for him and I don't know what to do about it). He had just started his residency and I guess he just didn't have the time to get back to me. Or it scared him silly. And since he was never good at confrontation, I got only silence.

So months later I finally worked up the courage to send him an email. "I obviously still have feelings for you and I just need to not have you in my life right now. Please do not call me or email me. I am un-friending you from facebook. I gave you a chance to talk, and you ignored it, this is over." That was the main idea.

Firecrotch tried to re-friend me. THREE TIMES he tried to re-friend me in the course of six months or so.

I finally had to call him and in tears and plead with him to stop doing it. Every time he did it hurt so badly. Not only was he doing what I specifically asked him not to, this was his lame and half-assed attempt at some sort of apology or something.

On the phone I asked him why he kept doing it even though I had asked him not to. "I don't want you to forget about me" said Firecrotch. "I can't forget about you" I said, "that's the problem. Why can't you understand that?"

He had nothing else to say for himself.

Honestly, if at any point he had picked up the phone, or written me an email explaining himself, I would have been open. Even now, if he decided that he actually had something to say, I would listen. But this facebook shit just KILLS me.

A couple months ago, Firecrotch tried to friend me AGAIN on facebook. That was it.

I finally blocked him.

Every time I wonder if I'm ready to talk to Firecrotch again, I remember to remind myself that he made me miserable, always reminding me of what I couldn't have.

So Heartbroken Girl, I hear you. But please do yourself a favor and find the strength to cut him off. I still think about Firecrotch way more than I should, but at least he's not he's reopening the wounds.

I figure this story is not over. But I'm happy for now that it is.

The one who left for a three month Zen Buddhist retreat

It would be just my luck to meet someone right before they left for three months to find peace meditating in the mountains. Additionally, I’m not sure how he feels about me, but when is that ever the case, especially right when you meet someone?

I met the Music Engineer at a party where I was providing the iPod mix. He recognized one of the tracks he put together in his studio on it and took a liking to me immediately. I think he gave me his card twice. He’s kinda funny looking but still very handsome and cute.

And even though I never share names on this blog, let me just tell you that his name is one of my all time favorite names in the world and when I start having children, if my husband doesn’t have this name, I think one of my children might have to. It would also be a great name for a dog or cat. That’s how much I love this name.

ANYWAY, I followed up with the Music Engineer like a good networker should and we ended up having lunch, which he paid for. And I thought, hmm, that’s nice of him to have paid for that. Was that a date?

I called him a few days later to see if he wanted to hang out that evening. He told me he would let me know if he could, and emailed me the next day explaining that he ended up working until midnight with no offer to reschedule. I thought maybe he was blowing me off until I got an invitation from him to a going away party; he was leaving for a Zen Buddhist retreat in 10 days and would be gone for three months. That explains that maybe he wasn’t blowing me off, just that he had another things on his mind.

I figured that was that, but then he called and invited me to a wine tasting party that evening. Even though I was battling a cold, I went. We had a great time and there was even a strange moment where a friend of his said that’s a long time to go away and the Music Engineer and I exchanged what I understood to be, a yup-it’s-a-long-time-and-our-timing-is-terrible look.

So long story short, I missed my train and ended up having to stay at his house, on the couch. The Music Engineer lives at his recording studio, so he sleeps upstairs in the loft. So I could hear him, and he could hear me cough and sniffle all night.

Hot. I am super hot.

And, I didn’t know if I ended up on the couch because I was sick, or because I was going to end up there anyway.

In the morning we had breakfast and talked music, it was fine. I still felt a little awkward about it, but he was great about it.

I went to his going away party, had a great time. Met his Dad and a bunch of his awesome friends. I even made some musical connections that might prove to be very useful.

I emailed him later to say thank you and that I’d love to see him before he left if it was possible, but I totally understand if it’s not. He was trying to wrap up a bunch of projects before he left. I promised I would send him postcards.

He’s leaving in two days and I’m now having fantasies about him calling and asking for one last night of earthly pleasure before he goes to full on monkland and how that conversation would go. Of course I would agree.

I'll let you know if I hear from him. But otherwise I’ll be sure to send him postcards.

The one who was a sexy kisser

I met the Hipster Lawyer online. He had a picture of him and Henry Rollins in the most hipster bars of hipster-dom in town. His handle was something about music being his crack.

I had to write to him:

"Please save some of that crack for me, I need the music to survive as well."

Hipster Lawyer was humanitarian lawyer, you know, the sexiest type of lawyer. He worked from home, so he didn't look like a lawyer at all. He was scruffy with overgrown hair. He was a little bit older than me, and super hot.

At the end of our first date (at a bar) he kissed me on the cheek and gave me a big bear hug. I loved it. At the end of our second date (also at a bar), I got out of the car claiming that I wanted a hug, and oops - we made out a little bit and...

OH-MY-GOD he might have been the best kisser EVER. A little nip there, suck there and oh-LORD-wowie-wow. I was hooked. Too bad he was aloof, texting me back at weird intervals and not contacting me at all after our dates. It was all me.

I'm not so good with waiting for guys to ask me out again if they make me wait for a few days. I figure, I want more, I'm going to go out and try to get more. Men are stupid and don't know what they want... HA! Wait, that never really works... but I do it anyway because I get antsy. I read "He's Not that Into You" and sadly, it's true. If they want to see you more, they'll make it happen.

But I just wanted to kiss him more. Really.

The third date we went to a music festival in town and were going to meet up with a bunch of his friends. All of them bailed except for this one girl. I asked him how he knew her,

"We used to date, is that okay?"

Sure it's okay, she was nice. And weirdly enough, it was nice to have someone else there to talk to. Definitely a sign that Hipster Lawyer and I were not meant to be. She just seemed a little nervous and was worrying about everything. I told her so - to her face. That might have been a bad move on my part because he asked me about it later. Was I annoyed with her? No. She was just worrying a lot.

We did get to kiss in the car later, and I told him that the only reason I keep called him is because of that. He seemed into it. We meshed that way.

Didn't hear from him again... but I figured I'd make a move anyway and ask him to a show. I heard back THREE DAYS later claiming that he'd like to go but had to "be up early the next morning."'

So I let Hipster Lawyer slip away. I did, at least, get some good kisses out of it.

The one that I totally forgot about: continued

I'd like to refer to the one I totally forgot about as the Lawyer Artist.

So this thing with the Lawyer Artist is getting more and more intense. What the hell am I doing?

I made him a mix CD yesterday and sent it over. Since we talk mostly about music and he likes everything from classical to Malian to alt-country. It was really fun to make and I thought that he would really appreciate it.

But listen, I kinda went over the top: IT HAD LINER NOTES! I briefly explained who the artists were or why I picked the song. CD mixes are deeply personal to me and I feel like my music is a way for others to look into my soul. I know that sounds cheesy, but it's true. I spend a lot of time and energy making them, I love to make them and I love thinking about the recipient, and it doesn't matter how well I know them.

CD mixes are my creations. They are my own personal art form. (I'll make you one if you promise to report back to me and tell me what you liked/hate)

I requested Lawyer Artist to make me one. Because you know that a CD mix is the way to a music lover's heart.

Whatever, I'll make one for anyone that asks.

He's sent me a few mp3s: some from an Algerian artist we both like and some from this samba/merengue singer, of course all in other languages.

Well, the one I got today is this band called Blackmore's Night. a song called "Wish You Were Here" and he made sure to tell me the name of the song.

But um... check this out and some of the lyrics

Wish You Were Here...
Me, oh, my country man,
Wish You Were Here...
I Wish You Were Here...
Don't you know, the snow is getting colder,
And I miss you like hell,
And I'm feeling blue...

I've got feelings for you,
Do you still feel the same?
From the first time I laid my eyes on you,
I felt joy of living,
I saw heaven in your eyes...
In your eyes...

And I miss you like hell...
And I'm feeling blue...
I miss your laugh, I miss your smile,
I miss everything about you...

etc, etc, etc...

WTF??

I'm trying not to get carried away, but it's really hard not to.

I'm having fantasies of moving, getting married, having babies and going to lots and lots of concerts with him. jesus christ.

Like I said, if this goes on, I'm going to have to go there just to see what it's like physically being there with him.

The one who won't leave me alone, pt. 2: Firecrotch

Alright, so I have to finish this one, because there certainly is more to tell.

And I'm going to try something new; instead of calling my cast of characters random names that I have chosen for them like some terrible real life tragic story from Seventeen magazine, I will call them something personifying my image or association of them. So I will call the one who won't leave me alone "Firecrotch."

Anyway, I had a conversation with Firecrotch last night and it seems that every time I talk to him now, I am overtly sarcastic. I also make fun of him to his face and I am mean. I am not a mean person. I also take my sweet time calling him back, but so does he. There is obviously something going on here.

I know that he is not worth my time, but I wonder if I put up a wall because I still have feelings for him. For a long time I really pined for him, but I don't anymore. But I still obviously still have intense emotions, and it's really, really, really annoying.

I have to see Firecrotch at a wedding in June, with his new gorgeous thin Indian doctor girlfriend, and I really want it to be a good time. I don't want to feel awkward and frustrated.

Alright, let's backup a little bit shall we? I need to fill in the blanks of the last ten years or so.

Firecrotch and I never lived in the same city except for before we met each other at camp. Soon after I met him, his Jewish family moved to Vegas to live among the many Mormans that live there. (Ironic that so many live in the vice capitol of the country isn't it?) I saw him about twice a year when he came to town to visit cousins. We would go get food, drive around, whatever. I always looked forward to seeing him.

I tried to make quasi moves on Firecrotch, like putting my legs up on his while watching movies, but it always seemed awkward for him. But I didn't really know how to do things like that, so I would try a little bit and then give up if I wasn't getting anything in response.

I do vividly remember having a conversation with him when I was about 16 about my eyes. I probably said something about how my glasses obscured them or how their color was really boring. He said something really nice like "getting lost" in them or something. I think I didn't know what to do with a comment like that. What the fuck was he trying to do to me?

Firecrotch is all about lists. How many girls he's kissed, how many countries he's been to, how many girls he's had sex with, etc. And then comparing it to mine.

At one point in college he told me that he liked to kiss girls simply to clear the air of sexual tension. But of course I was never one of those girls. He liked to tell me all about it though. And like I mentioned previously, he liked and still likes to remind me that I was his first REAL kiss. Just reminding me.

Thanks.

In my last year of college and his first year of med school he would call me at 2 in the morning, and I was okay with this. I don't even remember what we would talk about. In what world is it okay to wake a friend out of a dead sleep just to shoot the shit on a regular basis even if that person says it's okay?

I did realize that he never really told me much about the nice Jewish girl he fell in love with in college. That he kept quiet.

But Firecrotch wanted to hear all about my love life, and when I started having sex, he wanted to give me tips. Explicit ones. That made me crazy, emotionally, mentally and certainly physically. It was like the most torturous dirty talk in the history of dirty talk.

One summer we both went to Europe. I went to live in Scotland and he had a EuroRail pass that didn't go to the UK. He didn't want to come visit me because his train pass wouldn't get him there. I got pissed at him. Why wouldn't he come visit me? It was too expensive. Whatever.

Toward the middle of the summer I went to Denmark to visit a friend, and while in Copenhagen, guess who I randomly run into on the freaking street?

Yup. Firecrotch.

I start freaking out and the rest of my summer is shot as far as trying to hook up with any Scots there, especially since I didn't know how to find the one that started it all. My poor friends in Scotland had to listen to me obsess about Firecrotch and how it was so weird that I RAN INTO HIM ON THE STREETS OF COPENHAGEN. I thought it was a sign from the Gods or some crap.

Later that year back in the U.S. I saw Firecrotch and told him that I had feelings for him. It was a super big deal for me to do this. All he said was "I'm flattered but..." and that's all I needed to hear, I changed the subject. It was bad. We never talked about it again.

The next summer I went back to Scotland, and he sent me an email saying that we should go somewhere together, on a trip. I wrote back, "how can you ask me a question like that when you know how I feel about you?" I didn't hear back, AT ALL. So I emailed him later sort of apologizing. Lame. I love how somehow he got me to apologize for bringing up the fact that I had feelings for him and he was being a douche.

So I've brought up my feelings for him a couple times. It was 6 and 7 years ago though. I still talk to him. Not sure why.

Since then I've continued to see him about once or twice a year. While in med school he traveled around a lot moving to a different part of the country every time he changed rotations. I even went to New Orleans with him and some other Jews for Christmas one year including the girl he was fucking. It was awesome. I managed to have a good time though.

Firecrotch has friends, or acquaintances, all around the country. After awhile I started feeling like I was part of his harem. How many other women around the country had crushes on him? I knew of a few. This made me feel pretty horrible and pathetic the more I thought about it.

Since then I've been backing away from him, and (hopefully) obsessing less.

During the last semester of grad school, I was mad at him for some reason I can't even remember and I avoided his calls for months. I just couldn't bring myself to deal with him. This was not a confrontation I wished to have.

Finally when I did talk to Firecrotch, he asked me why I had been avoiding him, I apologized and said that I was angry with him for some stupid reason and I should have handled it better. He didn't press the subject further. Awesome, I apologized again.

I feel that there's no point in bringing this stuff up anymore. But now I feel that I just want nothing to do with him and that maybe it's that I don't want anything to do with these feelings anymore. Maybe it has nothing to do with him. He just happens to be the person that they are directed at. It has more to do with me and these bottled up emotions of being rejected by so many dudes.

But if I call him now and try to talk this out, I don't even know what I would say. The feelings go back 13 years!

I'm mad at him, but I don't even really care anymore.

I'm wondering that maybe I should force myself to talk to him about all of this just for the sake of the couple that's getting married in June. It's not going to be fun for anybody, especially for me if I can't enjoy myself because of him... But of course it will seem really fishy if I do this now because he's just gotten himself into a relationship, something that he's not had since college. He's not just fucking this girl, he's actually dating her. (Not that I really care, I don't want him anymore, I know that!)

Help! Why can't I just let this go? It's because I'm a girl dammit! And we don't readily do that.

The one that I totally forgot about

The internet is a strange thing. What did people do before it? Jesus, we actually wrote with pens, looked things up in books and talked to people. What a horrible world that sounds like...

Sam found me on one of those networking websites earlier this week. I had a huge crush on him in college right around when I was "dating" the one who was painfully shy. I think I met him through is roommate who lived around the corner from me in the dorms. I've completely forgotten about him, he wasn't even on my list of people to talk about in this blog.

I thought Sam was so interesting. I've always been drawn to Renaissance Men, you know, guys that do everything: paint, play music, are ridiculously smart... Sam was one of those guys. He also grew up in Eastern Europe and Texas, so he had this hot cute accent. Oh yeah, and he's Jewish.

His dorm room was full of his paintings, all what I remember as very Italian Renaissance-esque looking portraits. I was horrified when I saw that he would paint over old paintings that he didn't like, they were all so gorgeous! He played the classical guitar, had the largest music collection I had ever seen mostly filled with classical music and classic rock and was a double major in biology and psychology. We would "rock out" to Palestrina and Simon and Garfunkel.

Physically, he had all the qualities that I usually like that my friends never understand. He was a little chubby, had a goatee and that late 90's floppy hair.

We anyway, he found me online earlier this week. He's now a freaking human rights lawyer, has lost like 40 pounds and loves to travel.

I saw that he went to grad school (not law school mind you, he's got two grad degrees including the law degree) in the city I lived in after college.

"I lived there too" I typed, "I wonder if we were there are the same time. Wouldn't it be annoying if we just missed each other?"

He responded, "I am disappointed…don't you remember meeting up at a coffee shop? I think we hung out once before you left….That's ok, it was a long time ago …I forget what I did two days ago"

I'm so embarrassed and pissed off at myself at the same time. First of all I DO vaguely remember running into him and thinking it was weird awkward or something. But that could have just been me, for all I know I could have been involved with the one who didn't know how to make up for it. I mean not only did I let this guy go while I was lonely in this city, I didn't even bother trying to be friends with him. But I guess it goes both ways.

Anyway, we emailed back and forth everyday long emails for the next few days after that, updating each other on our lives, sharing musical recommendations and youtube videos and travel plans. He remembers things about me that I'm really surprised about, like that my Dad is a lawyer.

I'm kinda freaking out about this... I mean I'm actually thinking of finding excuses to go there and see if we can meet up.

Am I that desperate? Is this real? I went out on a date last night with a boy that I think is fun and cool, but I can't stand kissing him. It's pretty horrible. And I'm also going out on a first date tonight with a guy who seems like he's a surfer-lawyer-frat boy. I don't do surfer-lawyer-frat boys! We'll see, I don't want to assume things about him before we even meet in person. I'm trying people!

Anyway, Sam didn't email me yesterday or today and I'm really hoping he does. I don't even know if he's single or straight or what? Why does my imagination get the better of me? I get so disappointed all the time. It just creates a world of it's own and runs away. It never gets bored, that's for sure.

I make myself crazy sometimes! But he just seems so perfect for me from all the way over here...

The one who won't leave me alone

This entry is going to come at you in more than one installment. There’s a lot to say.

This redhead hasn’t left me alone since I met him in 1993. I was 13, he was 14.

I call him Firecrotch

Firectorch was my first kiss. Like, real kiss. With tongue. Like, my first make-out session. Both of ours actually. My memories of that kiss was the same as Harry Potter’s first kiss with Chou Chang: wet.

Firecrotch, the pain-in-the-ass, likes to remind me sometimes, that I have a soft spot for him. Just a couple words or phone calls here and there that makes me remember.

He tends to pop back up in my world every-so-often, especially when I’m not crushing hard on someone else. And if you’ve read any of the other entries in this blog, I crush a lot and I crush hard. I admit it is kind of obsessive. If I were one of these dudes and knew how hard this girl was crushing, I’d be scared. And that’s why I give these guys props when I think they know it.

Anyway, I went to an overnight camp in junior high and Firecrotch was my “boyfriend” for about two weeks. I remember the precise moment when I decided I liked him; it was on the volleyball court. I loved the combination of his strawberry-blonde jew-fro and the weird acid-washed bright blue t-shirt he was wearing. I told my friend that I like his hair.

She runs off and tells him I have a crush on him. How junior high is that?

Somehow it gets discussed that he likes me too and that he should “ask me out.” And at some point a couple days later, we were playing capture the flag and we end up alone.

“I have something to ask you” Firecrotch says.

“I know” I say.

“Will you, um, go out with me?”

“Yeah”

Granted this isn’t exactly how the conversation went, but it was something like this. We “dated” until camp was over. I kissed him good night on the cheek once probably almost a week after we started “dating” and he went “wooooo!”

We argued about the Batman and Robin cartoon that that was on tv, I had a crush on Robin (for some reason I found a cartoon character hot. See that looking at that picture up there at the top? he's totally my type, buff with glasses!)

There are a couple really cute pictures that I have of us cuddling during the after dinner song sessions. Come to think of it, I don’t know if I have any other pictures like that with any other guy, I wonder how much this says about my love life... I’ve hidden these behind other pictures. I won’t get rid of them, but I don’t want to look at them.

My brother was a CIT, a counselor-in-training for my group session. Basically he was a camper who got to go to camp for free in exchange for sitting around in the evening waiting for campers to sneak out of their cabins and more time to make out with members of the opposite sex. My brother was Firecrotch’s CIT. I think it freaked Firecrotch out a little bit. My brother liked to tease him, of course, that's an older brother's duty.

We never really “broke up.” I think it was just a camp-is-over type of thing. I called him when there were raging fires near his house. He was terrible on the phone.

We stayed friends. He came out of his shell once he got to high school. He was girl crazy. Girls loved him. We never made out again. But we would hang out whenever he was in town visiting family.

I developed a real crush on him. I never knew what to do about it. I still don't.

Part 2

The one who drove a white minivan

Whenever I see a white minivan I think of Jason, my high school crush.

He was a gorgeous sandy-blonde mild-mannered boy who probably turned out to be gay. I can't be sure since nobody has heard from him. And stalking him on the internet doesn't get me very far, although I feel like I might have seen that he's a second grade teacher as of four years ago.

I did my regular thing by hiding my love for him by becoming his friend. We even hung out a few times. I thought about calling this post "the one who taught me how to properly wash my car windows" because that's what he did. I didn't know I needed to use a paper towel to get the water off the wiper with every stroke. I mean my Mom never did that, but her windshield always looked like crap.

I obsessed about when Jason would call me back, if I would get to sit next to Jason in the one class we had together and if Jason would ever in a million years see how cool I was and want to make out with me.

Of course I was the good friend and even hooked him up with Amy, a friend of mine, for prom... what a good friend I was. She was a water polo player and could kick any guys ass. Amy had a smoking hot, buff body. It was a little masculine at times. Some guys loved it, some thought it was a little scary. Jason was a swimmer, and we all know what swimmers bodies look like.

Don't get me wrong, my prom date was awesome as far as the fun-ness level goes, we danced the whole night long. But he was not as gorgeous as Jason.

Amy and Jason looked really awkward in their prom picture.

Our school paper always ran a joke issue at the end of the school year making fun of all the graduating seniors. Amy's was nominated "most likely to be a man." Jason was nominated "most likely to date Amy."

This stuff is too perfect to make up people!

The one who wears cool hats

Yeah that's right, I said that in the PRESENT TENSE!!

I have a crush on the guy who leads the band I'm in through the place I work.

He's a little jew who plays the piano and accordian in a klezmer band and spent 20 years in New Orleans. He moved after Katrina.

He wears these awesome brimmed hats. I love men who work the brimmed hats.

I hear he takes off as many jewish holidays as possible.

He also might be married, I'm not sure, but I'm gonna find out.


***UPDATE***

I love the internet, it makes stalking people so easy. Especially if they are professional musicians and have record contracts. There's promo shots (good lord he was cute when he was younger), performance videos on you tube, fan photos, past and future scheduled gigs, etc...

He's not married (at least no ring to speak of), but has a daughter who's probably a little tike.

But listen to this: he told me yesterday that he just started intensive chemo because he's got arthritis in his hands! Which is why he felt super shitty the other day in rehearsal. I just thought he had a cold. Poor guy's a piano/accordian player and has arthritis in his hands! He said at least it hasn't affected his playing yet.

My brother said, wow, I can pick 'em. They're either emotionally or physically fucked up. Go me.

***UPDATE***

He's married, to a freakin' neurosurgeon! Oh well. Actually this will make rehearsal a lot more fun for me. Since he's off limits (I'm good with guys being off limits) I can relax a little more and just enjoy the eye candy. : )

The one who made my heart skip a beat

I know it sounds totally cliche and silly, but that's the only way I really know how to explain it.

Joey would smile at me as he passed by and I would get that crazy nervous feeling in my stomach, one that I would later feel when climbing the stairs to my dorm room and the one who was painfully shy. There was one time where we were talking and because he was looking right in my eyes, I literally could not speak. I was physically unable to so.

Joey was a year ahead of me and I first remember having a crush on him in in 7th grade. I was lucky enough to be one of the nine little ones to be cast in Anything Goes, the middle school musical. I was also one of the lucky ones to have a line. It was "I'm not a sinner!" Ironic, don't you think?

In the spring of my first year in junior high, I tried out for the softball team and auditioned for the musical. I didn't get onto the team but got cast in the musical, that was the end of sports for me. My fat ass and I would squeeze into costumes rather than do laps around the field. And I was happier for it.

Anyway, Joey had one of the main roles and had one of the most beautiful voices I had ever heard. Perhaps my earliest memory of him, and quite possibly the moment I started crushing hard, was when I witnessed a cartwheel attempt in the gym in front of everybody. He was probably trying to show off for the disproportionate percentage of girls in the room. He fell flat on his ass. It was one of our first cast meetings and it was all over for me.

Oh, how I loved the boy who landed on his ass.

I did my normal thing of trying to be his friend and get frustrated when he disappointed me.

I hated any girl who had a crush on him and was jealous of any girl that was a sincere friend of his. I remember hating this one girl with a passion, but she was a spoiled rotten bitch that had no sense of reality... I'm obviously over it. I'm sure she's a nice girl these days...

What was so bizarre about my crush on Joey is that he wasn't that good looking. Now my high school crush, he was the most beautiful boy I've ever been interested in, but Joey? Not really. But with my already established track record (remember the one who reminded us of Gonzo from fifth grade?), that's not a surprise.

I'm going to make a generalization now, one about children who are of mixed race parents, especially those that are half Caucasian and have Asian. They are usually very good looking, right? Really beautiful features and skin? Joey kinda got the wrong hald of the chromosomes. He had his Dad's bulbous Polish nose and he was bow-legged. But I thought he was dreamy, for years. I judge not by the book's cover. It must have been that voice, and that he had a sweet soul.

I think it might have all ended for me when I professed my love for him at the end of 8th grade. He would move to another campus and I wouldn't see him regularly again for another year, so I figured what the hell?

So I wrote a note, and gave it to my friend and she gave it to Joey.

No response.

Not a surprise.

What was I expecting?

There were rumors in high school that he was gay, or that all he wanted to do was get married and have as many babies as possible. He also became freakishly OCD. He continued to sing though, and I loved every minute of it. I think he's trying to be a jazz singer these days.

I ran into Joey and a high school friend of his at a bar when I was home from college once. I thought Joey was so boring t talk to. I had a much better time talking to his friend, who told me about his love for the Harry Potter books and persuaded me to read them for the first time.

There have been very few moments that I can recall in my live where I felt the way Joey's presence made me feel. And I'm still looking for that.

The one who had great hair

Ben had a gorgeous head of curly brown hair. It was so cute. It would change lengths, but would always stay long enough to enjoy the curl. He was a grad student when I was an undergrad. I met him at a party after I had been drinking and flat out told him that we had to be friends. I didn’t know he had a long-distance relationship with his college girlfriend.

Okay, you know what? I hate that shit. HATE IT. My heart always sinks a little bit when someone mentions their “girlfriend,” strangely, even when I’m not attracted to them.

So Ben and I became great friends. He was bizarre and eccentric in a way only a grad student can be.

For example, he told me that when he gets really into working on a project, he likes to have a cigarette in his mouth. Ben wouldn’t smoke the cigarette, it would just hang from his lower lip. And I guess it was always the same damn cigarette. I don’t know, maybe it was an attitude thing. The cigarette probably just made him feel like a badass. It is an interesting visual image don’t you think? Like something out of a movie about Jackson Pollack…

Oh, he always wore the same striped scarf too. Even when it wasn’t that cold. I mean, why couldn’t the girlfriend buy him another one? It was weird. I saw a photo of him a year or two after we parted ways and he was wearing it. And he still had the same girlfriend.

Ben also loooooved Marilyn Manson. Alot. I would tease him about it. My best friend in high school loved Manson, and she was twisted and disturbed. So I chose to ignore that interest of Ben's.

Anyway, back to the girlfriend, she pissed me off, have I mentioned that? And I only met her once. When Ben and I would hang out, his stupid girlfriend would call him on the cell, and he would freaking talk to her! No, “hey I’m out with a friend, can I call you when I get home?” And never would he just let it ring, oh no, never. I don’t remember specifically saying anything to him, but I feel like I did tell him at some point how rude he was when he did that.

Later in our friendship, he started calling me around 12am or later, and I would just let it ring or pick it up and ask him if he was drunk. Once I asked him to stop calling me because it made me feel uncomfortable, like he was booty calling me or something. He got all defensive and hung up. I ran into him in the record store a few days later and everything was cool. What a friendship!

Once when he was over hanging out he said to me, “you know how we talk about who we’d like to make out with and how it just takes guts to just do it? Well I’d like to make out with you sometime.”

Well I must have been in shock, because we certainly did not make out that night and he went on home. But I did think I might have kissed him goodbye on the lips on his way out like the stupid way I kissed the one who was painfully shy, and he didn’t do a damn thing.

But Ben did explain to me that over a year before, when my housemates and I had a party and I met The one who got high off NyQuil, Ben had just found out that his girlfriend had kissed a friend of theirs. He was depressed and pissed off and he came over to my party to kiss me in retaliation.

And I was preoccupied with stupid NyQuil man.

If I had known that Ben was on a mission, I would have gladly fulfilled the mission. But how was I supposed to know? I was distracted by a cute new boy! One without a girlfriend (and now we know why). Although I was probably missing a few obvious signs, like how he would try to make me jealous by telling me about hanging out with other girls and mentioning that I had been “couch hopping” all night at our party. But what is a gal to do when it’s her party and there’s several cute boys around? Well if she had known that one that she already had a crush on was a sure thing, then it might have turned out a little differently.

So going back to the time Ben tells me that he wants to make out with me…

He calls me on a Sunday and I’m on my way to a rehearsal for a show that’s opening in two weeks. He says “I want you to come over and hang out.” I had never been to his house. EVER. I explain to him that I can’t during the times that he’s asking about, and he’s all weird and blah blah blah…

So I stop by on the way over anyway, which was probably a bad idea, and certainly a waste of time. His roommate is there and there’s a weirdness and I leave for rehearsal. He never asks me to come over again. I wonder if he was pissed off at his stupid girlfriend again.

As a side note, there was an offer of a threesome with him and the girlfriend at some point. And I remember not saying ‘no.’ I had never been in one (and still haven’t) and didn't want to make it out of the question. Which made meeting her even more bizarre, since I’m positive she knew exactly who I was. There were pleasantries, but nothing more than that.

Never got to really kiss Ben, which is too bad, because he was a really passionate person. And I’m sure it would have translated over.

Looking back on this whole roller coaster of a relationship, I realize how toxic it was. And it was a good thing that even though we were emotionally involved, it didn't get physical.

Too bad, I would have loved to have that hair all to myself...

The one who had his own secret symbol

You know, like Prince, or the-artist-formally-known-as-Prince. Whatever...

Except I gave Will this symbol. And I did it while Prince was still Prince, way before the conflict with his record label even started.

Will was my first real crush, right after the week long crush I had on Mr. Idiot the-one-who-reminded-us-of-Gonzo. He was sweet, thin, and had blonde hair and blue eyes. I know, right? Totally NOT my type. But I was 11, I was still figuring out what my type even was.

I think I came up with the symbol by writing his name over and over again and realizing that I could combine the letters to make two super letters. It came out looking something like "Bb." And rather than writing his name all over my notebooks for everyone to see, I could crush hard by writing the symbol and not look like the scary stalker little girl I actually was.

I did ridiculous things like cutting up photographs with him in them and just keeping the bit that he was in. I think I actually carried a photo of him around with me in my wallet for awhile. Right, I know, SCARY!!

I'm sure Will knew that I had a huge, scary crush on him, since I had a handful of obnoxious friends that probably told him. But he really was a good sport about it and was always nice to me. He was a quiet kid anyway and never really got in anyone's face about anything.

I have this hysterical awesome picture of Will and I "slow dancing" at a classmate's party in sixth grade. I'm wearing tapered jeans, an oversized U2 t-shirt and keds. Oh yeah, I looked hot. I've got my hands on his shoulders, he's got his hands on my waist and there's about three miles between us. It's adorable.

I'm pretty sure it took all the courage in me to ask him to dance. It still takes the same amount of courage to hit on guys that I have crushes on these days, which is why I don't do it often. (I'm trying my best to do it more, and trying to get the nerve up to do it soon actually.)

Will moved to Iowa or Montana or some faraway state like that and no one has heard from him. I don't even think I'd recognize him if I saw him.

I wonder if he realizes that he was lucky enough to have his own kick-ass sign like Prince??

The one who we used to chase

No kidding.

We literally used to chase Richard around the play yard. I was in kindergarden.

He had one of those adorable bowl cuts of totally straight blonde hair. Us girls would chase him and corner him, I remember once in the little playhouse, and plant kisses on him.

If I remember correctly, he was a pretty good sport about it.

I wonder what that did to him in the long run...he could be a total player, or completely traumatized. Who knows?

I still feel like I'm chasing boys around the school yard sometimes, although I've recently gotten really tired of it. I wonder why I had the guts back then to plant a wet one on a prey after trapping it. I was probably more ballsy at four than I am over twenty years later.

The one who didn't like cigarettes

David didn't like girls that smoked cigerettes. Even though I was smoking a beedee (a Mexican cigerette) or a clove, or something like that, I wish I had known that this was a huge turn off for him. I would have saved my one-smoke-of- the-month moment for another time. I'm not a smoker, but I like to partake from time to time.

David was a gorgeous Irish guy who was on the same Australian student exchange program. He lived in Boston with his mom while he was going to Harvard. We studied at the same university in Sydney for a semester and had a lecture together called "Australia and America in the '60s." He was in my smaller discussion class once a week and I would try my hardest not to stare. But he looked at me once from across the room and smiled, I melted. I was smitten.

I love the Irish accent. The Irish can't pronounce the "th" sound, so they say things like "tree tirty" and "tousand." I have a thing for the Irish and it seems they like me.

Possibly on my first real date ever, we went to see a silly British comedy at this cute theater near the unversity where they sell a combo of a ticket and "meal" from the concession stand (which he paid for): a drink, a candy bar and some popcorn. After that, we found this awesome cafe near my house that had a Louie Armstong mural, Beatles postcards all over the walls and boardgames to play! We played battleship, and I had myself a merry time chatting up a storm and, I guess, at some point smoking something. But I don't even remember what is was. And, I guess, I didn't ask him if it was alright if I smoked something. So rude!! I'm never rude! well, almost never...

He excused himself when we were done, since he had a scheduled phone conversation with his mom (which was probably a lie). So I let him go and went down to my favorite spot on the rocks over the beach to watch a lightning storm. I remember wanting to call David so I could invite him down there with me. But I didn't have my phone on me, which is good since I didn't know that he had already made his decision about whether he wanted to go on a second date or not.

I saw him after that and he hardly gave me the time of day, it was pretty painful. I didn't get it. We had a blast on our date, or at least I did.

I later found out from a drunk roommate, who was also in our class, that he had told her he didn't like me. Well, by then it was obvious.

It wasn't until four years later when I randomly ran into him on the east coast Chinatown Bus that the reason why he didn't want a second date was because I had smoked something that night. It was weird because as we were talking about it I kinda remembered smoking something, but still doesn't seem to make sense. Why would I be smoking Mexican cigerettes in Australia? Is my memory getting different parts of my life mixed up? Was David making up the whole cigerettes thing? Why would he do that four years later?

I certainly don't smoke many cigerettes anymore. And I know that there are people who find people that smoke them absolutely disgusting. I just never knew I would be one of them.

The one who made me a Beatles mix tape

This is the boy who is responsible for my initial love of The Beatles.

In 8th grade I was friends with this group of nerdy indie rock boys. I realise in retrospect that I should have dated at least half of them at some point since they were cute, sweet, smart, funny and dorky, totally my type! But at the time I was too shy to do anything about it. And so were they. And anyway, I had a crush on the boy with the beautiful singing voice that made my heart skip a beat whenever he talked to me or looked in my general direction. So I was too distracted to see these boys as potentials. Even when it was totally obvious.

Matt loved The Beatles, LOVED them. I told him that I didn't know where to start with them since there were so many albums. So he made me a Beatles mix tape that I listened to up until last year when I got a car that sadly didn't have a tape player. It's a great tape. I miss it. It's sitting in a box in storage somewhere.

I hooked him up with a friend of mine, which I stupidly managed to do several times in high school. I realised in college when I was hanging out with the same group of boys over a holiday that I always kinda liked him. I also noticed that he had really bad breath, so maybe it wasn't a bad move afterall.

The one who loved Led Zeppelin

He was my 23rd birthday present.

I worked with Ron for about a year and I thought he was adorable. He was a short, but not too skinny, funny, cute, lover of music, especially Led Zeppelin, and was a total flirt. But of course, he had a super hot Phillipino girlfriend.

But they eventually broke up.

We bonded over Zeppelin. He gave me copies of some of the many Zeppelin CD's he had including a couple of those really cool "Influences of" they made now featuring Muddy Waters and old British folk music tunes. He even overdubbed 2001: A Space Oydssey with Zeppelin music, I think we were stoned when we watched it. It was one of the coolest things I had ever seen, it was like playing Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon while watching The Wizard of Oz. He said he would make me a copy.

We had a good makeout session after that, which made my actions on my 23rd birthday understandable.

I had my 23rd birthday celebration at a martini bar and got just completely wasted. Everyone kept buying me expensive and exotically flavored drinks that I would never order myself.

There are pictures of me from that night hugging my friends in pure glee, my eyes are totally glazed over. I'm in total bliss.

Someone took me home and Ron got out of the car to give me a good night hug and I drunkenly said,

"Aren't you coming in?" and he just looked at me and responded,
"You're horny aren't you?"
"It's my birthday!" (This was the only thing I could come up with?)

So we're making out on my bed and my roommate is making out with her quasi-boyfriend on her bed. My roommate and I shared a room in the attic of a large house, the room was kinda an "L" shape," so I couldn't see her bed from where I slept, although this doesn't make the situation any less bizarre, but hey, it was college and we were drunk. Very drunk.

At some point we convinced the boys to do a little striptease for us. It was pretty awesome, I have not had the pleasure of anyone since entertaining me with a striptease. Ron got totally into it, my roommates' boy was a little embarrassed. At some point, I just jumped Ron cause he's just so damn cute.

He later tells me that we can't have sex because I'm just too good of a friend. Which was absolutely fine with me since I was still a virgin. It is funny though that we could do all sorts of other things, but actual sex was out of the question.

We stayed friends (unfortunately without benefits from them on) until I moved away and we then sorta lost touch.

He randomly called me last month wanting to know if he could enter my name in the competition to win tickets to the Led Zeppelin reunion concert in London in honor of late, great Ahmet Ertegun, the Producer from Atlantic records who discovered and signed them. He said that if I won, I had to take him. Sure Ron, sure.

I'm still waiting for that Zeppelin/Space Oydssey DVD.

The one who reminded us of Gonzo

I have no idea why I even liked him, but we where 11! Why do you have a crush on anybody when you're 11? For some reason he reminded me and my friends of Gonzo, not quite sure why. Maybe it had something to do with the nose? That's certainly not why I liked him though, I know I have weird taste, but looking like Gonzo is not something I look for in men. I had a crush on him for about a week, right before my real first crush ("the one that had his own symbol" to come later) that lasted several years.

I also went to college with him and would see him around every so often. His friend asked me to their bizarre frat formal (stay tune for "the one with the weird arm"). He later told me that when he would go home to visit his parents, he would drink and drive after being out in the bars, I mean what other choice do you have if you want to go to a bar!?

He's a lawyer now.

Glad I never dated him. Even when I was 11.