On Courting
I am writing this story for a couple of reasons. First, because Ashlee laughed so hard when she heard it that she was almost in tears. Secondly, because Stephanie, my dedicated reader (thanks Stephanie) has most likely been checking to find nothing new recently.
First, let me give you a bit of background. As I’ve never been what one has considered a raving beauty, or a beauty – in fact many would consider me a two bagger – I have never had many romantic relationships that were, umm… well a partnership. By this, I mean that I have had a series of almost obsessive crushes in my life and was fortunate in that the victims were relatively kind hearted. Thus, hope reined supreme in my heart as I dreamed, fantasized, planned romantic rendezvous for the poor objects of my affection. Let me give you a run down.
David Cunningham – from kindergarten in Greenfield, Missouri. David was the IT boy in my class. And he seemed to like Natalie, the IT girl. I showed my deep affection for him by violently swinging him about when we played tag. I’m not sure that he really made the connection. But such violent swinging would represent my masculine style of courting for years to come. If I wrestled or punched that means that I liked you. Subtle, I know, and massively ineffective.
Grant Roark – also from Greenfield. He was blond and rode my bus.
Doober – was a boy who lived down the street from us in San Jose. I don’t have a clue what his real name is, but he called me 4 eyes, though I didn’t wear glasses, because he thought I was so smart. It was my first compliment from a boy.
Jim Jim Wallace – my first little gay boy crush. He was very popular and I think that I was more interested in being accepted than anything more.
Stacy Gardner – Stacy was a god. He was 4 years older than I was and a life guard at the city pool. He had those blond locks, tanned skin, nice body. And I used to call him all the time. And he would occasionally talk to me. I didn’t realize it until much later that he was most likely grooming me for future fag had status. And that would be a pattern that I would fall into again. What I remember the most about Stacy Gardner, besides his Brad Pittish good looks, was that one day while we were at the pool and I was staring longingly at him, I saw him walk into the boy’s bathroom. And I came to realize that Stacy Gardner, THE STACY GARDNER, used the restroom!!! Can you believe it? I was floored.
Loren – he was a senior the year I was in 8th grade. His sister owned and ran the horse stables at Lake Barkley State Resort Park. He had green eyes and black hair and I thought he was dreamy. I volunteered to work at the stables for free that entire summer just for the opportunity to be in the same room with him. He of course preferred the other little girl who was working there – her daddy was rich and they summered at the lake on their house boat.
Rob Castelign – was the foreign exchange student from Holland. And, I have a thing for little foreign men – yes I do. I got him to go to the movies with me and my sister (who had to drive because I was too young.) We saw Missing in Action, my treat. And to this day, I have no idea why he decided to go to the movies with me.
Daniel Rodriguez – continuing in my little foreign man theme. Daniel was the junior scholar counselor the summer between my junior and senior year. He was 28 – I believe, from Venezuela and hairier than a monkey. He was the first person that I ever told that my mother was a lesbian.
Michael Ball – was a student at Western. He hosted the parent’s weekend talent show. I had entered, and performed Winnie the Pooh. And later, my creepy friend Susan Wrocklage and I saw him at the football game. He had a red light in his window at Pearce Ford Tower, and thought my roommate was cute. And I think he would have been willing to let me do his homework. He aspired to be a male model and had changed his name to Michael Diamond for the purpose. He was a bit Rick Springfield-ish.
Prince – who didn’t even know I existed.
Craig Flener – my last little gay boy. This one is too long and complicated to really even bother to get into. Just let me say that in the 10 years that I was waiting for him to decide that there was no gay man out there that he wanted to be with and settle for me (settle, can you believe it?!) I learned many life lessons about family, jealousy, self worth, friendship, finances and a bevy of other things. All in all it was cheaper than therapy and would count for many people’s first marriage.
Jose – finally, the cute little foreign man who isn’t gay. Of course he’s not overly romantic either. He’d tell you that mostly he was ready to get married and he liked me well enough. It was no grand passion, no amazing – obsessive love – at least for him – but it will last until one of us dies – though some days murder may be an option. And I know that it was meant to be . . . it was fated. And that story, I’ll tell you on another blog.
