Melissa: Confessions of a high school crush

I’m a pretty rational guy.  I’m not really much of a dreamer nor do I parkate of fantasy’s very often.  Rather, I’m very much grounded in reality, which to me means the present.  I try not to live in the past, and am fairly successful doing so, I believe.

But, on occasion (rare occasion), I find myself thinking (dwelling?) about the past, playing those “if only” games we all do.  So, I wasn’t too surprised to find myself transported back to high school — a time when things were much simpler for me.  This happened last week by way of a dream I had.  It’s been a week and I haven’t been able drag myself back to 2007 yet. So I thought that perhaps writing a few thoughts would be therapeutic and helpful in doing so.

The time period I re-visited last week, for the first time in years (decades?), was high school. That period was definitely much simpler. No mortgage, no kids, no job and annoying coworkers, and very little in the way of expectations, outside of grades.

But in one way it was scary for me, too. You see, I was shy. Very shy. Painfully shy. Oh, my friends probably would deny that, but I knew them well enough so that it was impossible to be shy around them. It was everyone else I worried about. Making new friends was difficult, at best. I usually waited for people to approach me — that made things much easier for me. I had a very difficult time talking to people I didn’t already know well, even if it was just a casual conversation. I just couldn’t do it.

Which brings me to the subject of this post. This problem I had manifested itself in the most cruelest ways, at least for a teenager with raging hormones . I had a crush during high school. That’s singular. I only had one crush. I wasn’t an equal-opportunity crusher. I fell for only one girl.

Her name was Melissa, and she was beautiful. She had the deepest, darkest, most beautifully mysterious eyes I had ever seen, and gorgeous dark hair. We rode the same school bus for six years, I think. At least my memory tells me we rode the same bus together every day during high school. That means we saw each other just about every day. Twice a day, to be exact. That’s a lot of time to be in close proximity to someone you have a crush on when you’re paralyzed by fear to talk to her. That was me. If I had a dollar for every time we crossed paths (literally) and I regretted not saying something to her, I’d be wealthy beyond my dreams. Every time I saw her I would freeze. My mouth stopped working. My brain froze. I blushed. Thinking back on it all now, I wonder if she ever noticed? Probably not.

I don’t know what she thought about me, if she ever thought about me. If anything, she probably thought I was that really strange quiet guy on the bus that kept to himself. Yeah, that’s probably what she thought of me.

Right after high school, a friend of mine had a graduation party at his house. There were a lot of classmates and other people there. Melissa was there. I had been drinking, of course (you could drink beer when you were 18 way then). I think I let it slip that I liked her. I had kept the whole thing a secret from everyone until then. Unfortunately, my friends didn’t help facilitate an introduction that night. Not that it would have mattered at that point, I’m sure. She certainly thought I was a nutcase by then. Anyway, that was the last time I ever saw her.

A few years after high school, while I was in college, I did something really idiotic. She and her family moved out of state after she graduated, but I got her forwarding address from the post office, and sent her a letter. Actually, it wasn’t a letter, but rather the lyrics to a song that reminded me of her (don’t ask, I’m not going to tell you the song. I hope she’s forgotten as well). I did, but didn’t, want her to know who sent it to her, so I didn’t sign my name. Somehow, she did find out that it was me who sent it. Looking back, I’m not sure what I thought that would accomplish. If anything, I’m certain it cemented in her mind that I was nutso.

Time has passed, and I’ve changed. I’m not the cowering shy guy in the corner anymore. I’m not really too hung up on what people think of me. Accept me, reject me, I don’t care. I am who I am. I’m definitely not nutso, that I know. Just a recovered shy-guy.

But I probably wouldn’t want to cross paths with her. They say you can never go back, and I, for one, believe that. I still have fond memories of her from high school at James W. Robinson Secondary School. I’m sure I would freeze up again, at least temporarily, if we ever did cross paths. I don’t expect that to happen, however, but they say it’s a small world…

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t obsess over her. It had been many years since I had even had a conscious thought of her, until my dream the other night. So no, I haven’t built a shrine or altar to her. That dream just resurrected some memories that I have often wished played out differently. Not much I can do now. Maybe she’ll read this, maybe not. Probably not.

I would love the chance, however, to finally say “Hi” after all these years. So, Melissa, if you ever find yourself reading this, here’s a very belated ‘hi’ to you.

Confession over. Back to our regular programming…