Boy Crazy from Birth: A Blog is Born

I don’t remember thinking of boys as icky or having cooties. I always found them to be flat. out. FASCINATING.

The Beginning

It all began in the first grade. I had a crush on the “jock” of the class. In retrospect, he was the clumsiest excuse for a jock I’ve ever witnessed, but, at the time, I was starstruck. Every time he fell down or ran into a chair, I would rush over to check on him and say, ever so sweetly, “are you ok?” At which time, he would shrug me off because I was an icky girl who had cooties. Funny enough, we were in school together through high school and he was never particularly athletic; he probably just played kickball that year.

I should have known then that I was in trouble because of my fascination with the “other” sex. Then I learned what trouble really was and it’s been downhill ever since.

Petey Blumenthal. He was in the fourth grade and, to my first grade sensibilities, I was just happy to find someone who would play Flash Gordon with me during recess. So, the day he decided to kiss me, suddenly his size and age became an issue. I told him NO, that KISSING (UGH!!) was not an option. Then he recruited two friends to help him pull it off. I ran  as fast as I could and thought I was making traction until I found myself surrounded by Petey and three other fourth graders…

The next thing I knew, Petey was in front of me, planting the wettest, sloppiest, grossest kiss on my cheek. I was disgusted. Traumatized.

Little did I know that my trials and tribulations with boys had just begun.

So, is this Blog about the First Grade? Nope.

Petey gave me a glimpse into the game of tug of war I would spend the rest of my life playing. The dating game. To my chagrin, and to the benefit of this blog, I have spent many painful hours enduring comically awful dates. And, now it’s time to tell my stories.

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