People often ask me: "Emily, how have you been so lucky in love? You always seem to be in a relationship. Tell me your secret." Well today is your lucky day, my friends. Because I am here to give you a run down of all my childhood crushes. Perhaps there is something to it. A pattern that you can learn from.
We'll start at the very beginning.
Preschool: John R.
John is my husband. How do I know this? Because I very vividly remember getting married to him. I wore a veil (my baby blanket) my brother was the ring bearer (he used his own bed pillow) and my sister was the master of ceremonies (she held a children's picture book Bible for us to lay our hands on.) We got married on my mini trampoline in the middle of the living room.
John and I were soulmates. We each had big wheels. I don't think I need to explain anything further. And just because he moved to the other side of the world (1/2 an hour away) doesn't mean that we aren't still meant for each other.
Kindergarten: Kevin L.
The only thing I remember about my crush on Kevin L. was that I always tried to stand in the same place in the girls' line as he was in the boys'. Not to talk to him. Not to touch him. Just to stand there pretending like his large ears weren't making my insides all squishy.
My mother tells me that I sent Kevin L a love letter. It was quite literally, "Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet and so are you." First of all, where the hell did I learn this poem when I was five? Secondly, no hilarious puns? No bait-and-switch? Just a plain, boring poem? I'm disappointed in you, Mini Emily. You're better than that.
From here there was a bit of a breather from boys when I considered them gross and dumb (probably true.) But then one day I woke up to realize who my true love really was:
4th & 5th Grade: Mike D.
Mike. Was. Hilarious. He could quote SNL. I'm almost positive the whole school knew of my secret admiration, even though the only move I ever made toward him was picking him to go to the library with me instead of my best friend, Tiffany. Tiffany was...(how to put this?)...displeased.
6th Grade: Lenny N.
Lenny was the first boy that I could talk to like a normal person. About what, I couldn't say. God knows it certainly wasn't about my new braces or the fact that I was the mortified owner of a new forest green AA sports bra.
Lenny moved at the end of the school year and Tiffany convinced me to call him and ask for his new address. When I finally got up the courage (it took a few days) I forgot to get the zip code. And in a time before Google, I had no idea how to find it without admitting to my parents why I needed it. I spent the summer pining and listening to sad Disney songs. True story.
7th Grade: Jeremy M.
Jeremy was funny. And a little mean. And weird. And he parted his gelled hair to the side. And I couldn't have wanted him more. I tried to ask him out once. This was how I did it:
Emily: Hey, have you seen Titanic yet?
Jeremy: God, no.
Emily: You should.
Um, helloooo? Could I have BEEN more obvious? I can't believe he didn't pick up on my subtlety.
8th Grade: Teenage Boyfriend.
TB was not my "B" yet, per say. But this was my first encounter with him and I was SMITTEN. He had a bowl cut, which was hott with two t's. I will never forget the first words he said to me. I asked him what grade he was in. He said, "8th. I skipped the 7th grade because I'm so smart." And then he ran into a glass door.
It was love. But it took a year or so for him to succumb to my wiles. In the meantime, there was--
8th Grade: Scott N.
Scott is the boy of this fame. I have no more to say on the matter. 8th grade was a busy time for me, crush wise. For there was also--
8th Grade: Kevin W.
Kevin was very weird. But he amazed me-- he didn't seem to give a damn about what people thought. He wore a neon green shirt and had hair the shape of broccoli. I had a fantasy about him where we'd make cookies and end up in a flour fight. I had high aspirations as a fourteen-year-old.
I actually called Kevin from our kitchen phone (Michelle listening intently nearby) and asked him to be my boyfriend. Straight up asked him. None of this Titanic nonsense. I believe his response was "Uhhhhh....sure." What a dreamboat.
We went on one date to see Notting Hill, and then he left for the summer to live with his dad. When he came back, we didn't speak for four years. It's a damn shame because when we finally became friends again at the end of high school, it turns out he was pretty much awesome and I had been right all along about how cool he was. Also, he trimmed the broccoli hair. Another damn shame.
High School: Wes Z.
Most of my high school career was spent in the arms of Teenage Boyfriend. But there was a time without him. That time was spent thinking lovingly of Wes Z. Wes was one of those boys who you think is hot, but you don't think anyone else has figured it out. Let me tell you a little story.
In my senior yearbook, after I had put him behind me, Wes had written a little blurb, and at the end it said, "I put my signature by my picture on pg 78 so you'll have it when I'm a famous golfer." and then quickly scribbled after that, "Who wrote 'hottie' by my pic? haha...call me."
I furiously flipped to page 78 and Monica, God love her, had drawn little purple hearts and flowers all over Wes' picture with "hottie!" and an arrow. Oh, Mon. You wonderful girl, you. Too bad this was way after my crush, and Teenage Boyfriend and I were back in action. Otherwise, who knows? I may have become Mrs. Emily Z.
And there you have it. Hopefully it is now obvious to you how high above I soar than everyone else. I have been a love master since the beginning, clearly. I hope you can all use my experience to better your own.
Good luck, and God bless.