Fasten your seatbelts - this is a long one!
When I was 14, I was a skipping happy lad whose years numbered twice of seven - my ever-bright constitution was continuously boosted by my parents' split-up and eventual divorce¹, my mother's feminist brainwashing², and schoolmates who constantly drilled into me the notion that I was an ugly thick pauper and that my mum gave birth to me into a bucket when she was 55.³

(Sounds like a recipe for disaster, doesn't it? Plough on, dear reader, and find out why 'twas not so....)

The saviour of my sanity came from the unlikeliest of places - school. I'll call her Emma for the usual reason. Ye gods, I can still remember her now (no mean feat, given how scant my long-term memory is at the best of times) - she was about 5'10", had golden-brown hair down to her shoulders, was slim and satisfyingly shapely, and had the most stunningly gorgeous dark brown eyes I have seen for many moons. I fell in love with her! (Name me one red-blooded lad who wouldn't in the circumstances....)

Unfortunately, there were some considerable problems hindering any progress I might have made. The first was my disposition - shut-in and nervous, I could barely have talked to her, never mind anything else! (It would be a little different now... ;-) The second, more serious problem was that she was in fact a teacher.⁴ A geography teacher. The one who didn't teach me. Bugger! But if nothing else, her presence instilled in me a preference for slightly older and more sophisticated women (by one or two years nowadays rather than ten!) and a strong attraction to dark brown feminine eyes....⁶

(Also of negligible interest is the story of Mel, a beautiful dark-eyed girl I worked with a few years later who had a crush on me; a nice change from usual, but I still fucked up. Go me. For that reason it is not one I want to recall, and besides this post is quite long enough as it is without yet more of my nostalgic burblings clogging it up.)

Well, that was the earliest crush/love I could remember. If there were any before then, they were obviously not memorable. Either that or my memory is very bad. If it's the latter, then writing my autobiography is going to be a tough job.



No apologies for the footnotes, you loves 'em!

¹ It took nearly ten years.
² When you're scared to even talk to girls for fear of commiting an unknown offence against them and getting struck down by some sort of divine retribution, you are brainwashed.
³ Kids, eh? Maybe they were joking, but the joke wore very thin over five years. I'd bet my life savings that whoever said schooldays are the best of your life was some kiddy-fiddling 40-year-old cunt working for the local council... except that I have no life savings and wouldn't waste them on a bet like this if I had them.
⁴ Surprised you there, didn't I?
⁶ She voluntarily left my school and the teaching profession after two years, most likely driven to desperation by the pupils' behaviour. Whenever I see those adverts on TV encouraging people to take up teaching, I think of what happened to her - and laugh cynically. This does get me some odd looks from my housemates, though....
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Thu 20 Oct 2005, 18:06, Reply)