Just a Little Crush

I felt it was high time to share ancient crushes and their affect on my vulnerable psyche. :) As you all learned not long ago, I have a weakness for Italian studmuffins, but they are by no means the only species Ms Circe has succumbed to when Cupid’s arrow’s sought out a willing victim. Class, today we will discuss Tony and Dave, circa junior high, my most favorite educational institution of yesteryear.

Very typical of my crushes was Tony, a tall, skinny, cute, blue-eyed Italian smoothly cruising the halls of Adolescentville. Never paid the slightest bit of attention from his quarter, the feeling was most definitely one-sided. My most vivid memory was discovering to my joy and horror I was to be his partner in square-dancing in the gym. Though bitterly complaining the entire time, in reality we had a blast learning the moves though it would be stretching it a bit to pronounce us ‘poetry in motion.’ (Why Cleveland kids had to learn this is beyond me, but then again, most of us can polka). While I cherished the thought of 'do-si-do-ing' with tempting Tony, I had an acute problem with ‘cold hands’ and indeed that was what he remarked upon, much to my total embarrassment. Once again, the wretched earth failed to swallow me and Scotty neglected to beam me aboard to escape my red-faced shame. :( Moving on…

Besides the overwhelming majority of Italian students, we also had a goodly showing of Polish descendants joining me in the educational process. A truly magnificent specimen was sweety Dave. Totally veering from favored darker complexions, this homegrown honey possessed fair hair and azure eyes. Though I have no doubt he understood his power over the fair sex, he was kind enough to befriend undeserving me and his attentions were not unappreciated. But it certainly wasn’t in a girlfriend kinda way. I had shown him a pic of my gorgeous friend Angie (a whole 'nuther subject for another day) and he was entranced, but they never did meet as she went to a different school in a different ‘burb. He and I shared a math class in eighth grade and much to my acute pleasure, sat side by side. I fondly remember the time he jokingly shook pepper into whatever soft drink I had purchased at a store in our mammoth shopping center. Dave was always friendly, easy to talk to, and extremely easy on the eyes—a special guy. My close buddy Karen had the good fortune to reside near him on the other side of town and apparently our teenage longing for Mr Adorable was shared. There was a particular song popular at the time that seemed to speak our unuttered yearnings toward him and we requested it a lot. To further demonstrate his far-reaching charms, many years later yet another childhood friend and fellow nerd-girl, Jeanette, confessed to harboring a secret crush on our darling Dave.

Thumbing through my yearbook, I failed to find his smiling countenance after junior high, so I’m inclined to believe he either dropped out or moved. I later learned of his tragic death in a knife fight with a rival motorcycle gang. What a waste. The guy that could easily chat up both ugly ducklings and beautiful swans was forever lost. But certainly not to Karen, Jeanette and Circe in whose hearts he forever lives.