Do You Remember Your First Crush?

 My first crush was Optimus Prime, the Autobot  Yes.  You read me correctly.  My first crush was a cartoon character.

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Really. What on earth am I going to tell my yet-to-be born child when s/he asks me about my first love? Am I really going to tell him/her that my first crush was a cartoon character? Do I really want my child to think that I'm a complete nutbag instead of just a partial nutbag?

No, and that is why the name Optimus Prime shall never be uttered from these lips again. Ever.

But I digress.

I've decided that remembering a first crush is rather easy; but how many people remember their twenty-third crush? Not very many, if you ask me. I, however, am an anomaly. I can - and still do - remember my Twenty-Third Crush.

I met Number Twenty-Three when I was a young, impressionable, 24 year-old graduate student. It was Orientation Day, and if anyone remembers how awkward Orientation Days can be, this...was definitely one of those days begging for awkwardness and stilted conversations.

So if this moment was being portrayed on the small-screen, I, a black Tina Fey/Liz Lemmon look-alike with chunky glasses, frizzy hair, and somewhat ill-fitting attire, would make my entrance right about...here. I quickly made my way over to a table, sat down, and stared blankly around the room.

And then?


Number Twenty-Three entered the room.

Okay, so remember that scene in "Wayne's World" where Mike Myers sees Tia Carrere, the vivacious woman of his dreams, and "Dream Weaver" is playing in the background? Tia's walking in slow motion, and there's this halo of soft light around her, and Mike Myers' heart stops and he has a little "Schwing!" moment?

That's what it was like for me when Number Twenty-Three entered the room. However, my internal "Crush Soundtrack" was much different, because my mind? Totally thinks of Pop/R&B hits. My internal Crush Soundtrack was INXS's "I Need You Tonight," quickly followed by Prince's "If I Was Your Girlfriend" and "I Wanna Be Your Lover."

Classy, right? I know. Thank you.

So back to Number Twenty-Three. Number Twenty-Three? Had the face that could sail 1,001 ships (eat that, Helen of Troy). Number Twenty-Three was so handsome, that he could make the cherubs painted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel cry. In fact, I heard that Number Twenty-Three passed a Nativity scene in the winter of 2004-2005 and he made the Baby Jesus, Three Wise Men, and the Virgin Mary cry tears of ecstasy. Joseph? Joseph didn't cry because he wasn't paying attention when Number Twenty-Three walked by, but if he had been? Joseph would have needed to buy a lot of stock in Kleenex.

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In short, Number Twenty-Three was beautiful. He had this extremely beautiful black hair that a girl could just run her fingers through. His skin was this perfect shade of Crayola's Diversity Box brown...and those eyes? Liquid pools of chocolate.  Body? Superb.

So it was about this time that I experienced my first hot flash. My mind was racing, however, I sat at my special Orientation Table and tried to keep myself super preoccupied.

And that's when Number Twenty-Three sat down at my table.

Oh Sweet Baby Jesus, I remembered thinking. This boy - man? demigod? -  could totally have me...at hello.


So in true "me" form, I looked everywhere around the room and avoided looking at him. I think I kept my eyes from meeting his - or anywhere else on his person, for that matter - for a good thirty seconds because that's when he decided to engage in small talk (OH NO! NOT SMALL TALK!).

"Hi," said Number Twenty-Three. I quickly looked around the room. I looked up. I looked down. I even looked to my left and right before finally realizing that he was talking to me. In an act of pure stupidity, I pointed to myself. "Me?" I squeaked.

I could have sworn he laughed at me - or at least he was trying not to laugh at me.

"Yeah. You. Hi. I'm [Insert Number Twenty-Three's Name Here]. What's your name?"

And it was about this time that my Internal Dialogue started going into overdrive.

Internal Dialogue: Sweet Baby Jesus in Heaven. This boy? Is so so fine. I wonder...if he has...a woman? I could never be his woman...hey, wait. Wasn't that a song in the early 90s? "I Could Never Be Your Woman?" Must research when I get home.

"Hi. My name is [Insert Rather Difficult to Pronounce First Name Here]."

"Pleased to meet you."

Internal Dialogue: He's so pleased to meet me. I wonder if one day we could get to know each other in the Biblical sense? *Shudder*


"So uh, where are you from?" I asked Number Twenty-Three.

"New York. You?"

Internal Dialogue: I think. I just might. Pee my pants. I heart him so. A New Yorker! Swoon.

"Uh, I'm from the South. Texas...the state of all things large and over sized," I said as I slightly pushed my chest toward him (pathetic, right?). If Number Twenty-Three didn't think I was bat-shit crazy before, he was totally going to think that my obvious gesture of shoving my melons in his face was absolutely ridiculous. My mom? So wouldn't be happy with the way I was shamelessly trying to flirt.

"Oh. That's interesting," Number Twenty-Three said. I could have sworn he scooted his chair away from me a smidge. "So what brought you here?"

Internal Dialogue: What brought me here? What brought me...here? If I said "My pheromones," would you laugh?


"College. I went to college upstate."

"Really? Where?"

"Poughkeepsie?"

"Did you go to Marist?"

"Uh, no."

"Dutchess?"

"Not quite...I went to Vassar."

"Oh."

The small talk continued for quite some time. I found it rather difficult to focus, as I was watching Number Twenty-Three's mouth the whole.entire.time...then I thought about what kissing his mouth would be like. Somewhere in all of this my mind made a serious u-turn to Shakespeare - you know that line from Romeo and Juliet? The one about "a kiss from those lips?" Okay, so my knowledge of my Ol' Man Shakespeare is a little rusty, but I honestly couldn't remember anything remotely smart or academic while sitting across from Number Twenty-Three.

Needless to say, keeping my mind focused during class when Number Twenty-Three was around was such an impossible feat. If he sat in a chair directly across from me, I had to move so I could remember that I was going to grad school to learn, not gawk at the inevitable hottie sitting across from me.  But sometimes I would play M*A*S*H with myself when I was bored in class and  cleverly manipulate my choice of marriage partners so that I would end up with Number Twenty-Three as my forever lover.  Sure, we'd end up living in a shack with 14 children, 6 BMWs, and jobs as a doctor and sanitation worker, but I would have been really close to those liquid chocolate eyes and that fabulous Pantene hair.

Yes.  Yes I can be that shallow.

As the tortuous first year of grad school wore on, my heart was torn into a million tiny pieces when Number Twenty-Three began dating one of our classmates. This chica? Beautiful. I was completely and utterly angry at the Gene Pool because God put two of the most beautiful people on the planet  in my grad school class and they just naturally had to gravitate towards each other.  Naturally.  Obviously.  Darwinism at it's finest Uch.  SERIOUSLY? Seriously. I think God totally decided to fuck with my impressionable 24 year-old heart when those two started dating because He wanted me to know what Hell was really like.

Thanks, God.

Actually, I didn't hate Number Twenty-Three's girlfriend. I was envious in a "why-couldn't-I-be-her?" sort of way. In fact, almost every girl in my grad school class was envious of this beautiful beautiful creature (who some might say could resemble Zooey Deschanel in [500] Days of Summer). She was nice, wonderful, pretty - and she looked like she owned Anthropologie's fall and summer line.

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Ugh. WHY, God? WHY?

Anyway, where was I? Yes. Crushes. Like I said, it's super easy to remember your first crush - especially if he was a cartoon character you had no chance of meeting - EVER. But that twenty-third crush? I bet most of you couldn't remember your twenty-third crush if you tried. That? Is why I'm weirder than most.

Til next time...