Puberty Was Hell

I've probably mentioned this a few times, but bear with me, I'm getting to where my mind is slipping and I'm too lazy to look back at the posts.  Puberty was hell.  I think it started around the 5th or 6th grade, give or take a semester.  You know, when your friends asked you, "Who's your girlfriend?", and you answer Mary or Peggy or Linda or Patsy or whoever else might be catching your attention that week.  The thing is Mary or Peggy or none of those other girls knew a thing about it because you're not going to say anything to them, right?

One of these days I want to ask one of the ladies how it was from their side, because from mine it was pretty mixed up.

Anyway, you mooned over her, trying to convince yourself that she would be the one, you were sure of it.  All she had to do was fall into your arms, which obviously never happened.  Especially since she didn't know a thing about it and even if she did, you wer so far under her radar she rarely notices you at all.

Ever notice that?  Most moony eyed guys went after the prettiest, most popular girl in school.  The one that logically they would have the least chance of ever being seen with.  Why is that?  The fear of rejection so strong they went where  they were sure to get it quickest?  How many movies did you watch where you were the hero and she was the leading lady?  The same with books, you were the hero and she was your main squeeze.

What brings me to all this, is that would you even dare tell her now that you had a crush on her in the 6th or 7th or 8th or (fill in the blank) grade?  There you go, tempting the gods of puberty again.  One last rejection before you ride of into the sunset.  As for me, I'm not going to say a word.  Those memories are as sweet to me as my first time of catching a trophy sized fish or jumping off a rope swing into the deepest part of rhe river or driving your very first car on your very first date.  After all, she's still not going to say those magic words... "You did?  I had one on you too."