"Legit" boyfriends I don't think I've had.
By legit I mean "official."
By "official" I mean "he asked me if I wanted to be his girlfriend and I agreed."
Well, I did have one "official" boyfriend, in fifth grade (oh shit, wait, I had another one of those in first grade... hahaha! Oh man, I had forgotten all about him. Freddy. From first grade until the end of second grade, where I was separated from my latinos and forced into english classes. Traumatic). I've talked about him on here, I've even written a short story.
Mario.
Mario.
He was the best... in his weird, gangster-with-a-sweet-side way.
Homeboy liked me since we were third graders, but didn't tell me anything until fifth grade.
He didn't ask me out until AFTER my birthday... why? Because:
1. Saint Valentine's Day is in February.
2. My birthday is the first day of March.
Homeboy liked me since we were third graders, but didn't tell me anything until fifth grade.
He didn't ask me out until AFTER my birthday... why? Because:
1. Saint Valentine's Day is in February.
2. My birthday is the first day of March.
Apparently those two days were too close together, and he felt it most prudent to ask me out after... so he wouldn't have to spend money on any gifts.
But seriously, he was a sweet, sweet boy (every girl's crush, back then. Everyone but me... I was too sprung on some other jerk).
He took care of me as best he could in fourth grade, when those two horrible girls tormented the fucking HELL out of me every single day.
He would randomly throw sweet compliments at me... like while making line to go into the library, or while aggravated in the lunch line... or while sitting quietly in class, in the dark, watching educational videos.
He'd play that ranking game with his friends, where they'd rank the girls in school on a hotness scale from 1-10. I remember glancing over, angrily, to see they'd ranked two of my friends as 2's... and Mario had ranked me a... one trillion? I don't know, it was a 1 with a bunch of zeros following, all the way to the end of the page. I remember feeling embarrassed that someone could find me that pretty... that the "hottest" guy in school found ME to be that pretty... it was... weird.
In sixth grade, when his hoodlum friends that sat in the back with him threw spit wads into my hair, he hit them and then discreetly told me to shake my hair, that I "ummm, have something in your hair."
When he told me he didn't ask me sooner to be his girl because he would not have been able to afford it, I felt like shit... for him.
I'm pretty sure that experience has much to do with the fact that I don't really give a shit about gifts... and the fact that I hold homemade/heartfelt gifts a lot closer to my heart.
I don't need dinners or material objects to be happy, something as priceless as a smile on a shitty day is enough for me. Something as simple as a reassuring squeeze to my shoulder remains burned into my memory forever.
Happy Valentine's Day.
I'm not a hater... enjoy the day whether you're single or taken.
I'm good.
:)
But seriously, he was a sweet, sweet boy (every girl's crush, back then. Everyone but me... I was too sprung on some other jerk).
He took care of me as best he could in fourth grade, when those two horrible girls tormented the fucking HELL out of me every single day.
He would randomly throw sweet compliments at me... like while making line to go into the library, or while aggravated in the lunch line... or while sitting quietly in class, in the dark, watching educational videos.
He'd play that ranking game with his friends, where they'd rank the girls in school on a hotness scale from 1-10. I remember glancing over, angrily, to see they'd ranked two of my friends as 2's... and Mario had ranked me a... one trillion? I don't know, it was a 1 with a bunch of zeros following, all the way to the end of the page. I remember feeling embarrassed that someone could find me that pretty... that the "hottest" guy in school found ME to be that pretty... it was... weird.
In sixth grade, when his hoodlum friends that sat in the back with him threw spit wads into my hair, he hit them and then discreetly told me to shake my hair, that I "ummm, have something in your hair."
When he told me he didn't ask me sooner to be his girl because he would not have been able to afford it, I felt like shit... for him.
I'm pretty sure that experience has much to do with the fact that I don't really give a shit about gifts... and the fact that I hold homemade/heartfelt gifts a lot closer to my heart.
I don't need dinners or material objects to be happy, something as priceless as a smile on a shitty day is enough for me. Something as simple as a reassuring squeeze to my shoulder remains burned into my memory forever.
Happy Valentine's Day.
I'm not a hater... enjoy the day whether you're single or taken.
I'm good.
:)
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