let them go boys
I remember my first big crush was in third grade, and the girl's name was Emily. I thought I was in love, and I really don't want to demean anything about this seeing I was eight years old, because this girl really was everything for me. I had known her since kindergarten and we both loved the Beatles and she tried to get me into Peter, Paul, and Mary unsuccessfully. She and I were pretty good friends up to third grade, where I got weird and eventually it came out that I in fact, had a pretty hefty crush on this girl. Numerous plans included writing a love song and singing it to her at recess and saving my christmas money to buy her a golden ring.
One afternoon I received news that Emily "kinda liked me" and my response was quite simply running up to her and just shouting "I love you I love you I love you" over and over again. After that overreaction she kinda cooled down and gave me a poem called "What if Dragons were Knights?" with the K pencilled in before the misspelled "night." It was one of the strangest poems I had ever read, and while I can't remember any quotes from it specifically, in the bottom I saw some pencil etchings that had been erased. I could still read it though. It said, "To Clint, I don't like you." Of course back then "like" meant cherished, adored, and desired in the most romantic of ways, so came the discovery that this poem was originally intended to be a sort of consolation prize I suppose.
But I still kept coming back to Emily. Sitting across from her at lunch, shooting the shat, and every so-often confessing the persistence of my adoration for her, always yielding fairly lukewarm responses. This all come to an end one day in the library where Emily would specifically tell me to meet her in the back of the library because she needed to tell me something.
I remember, almost verbatim, (And I did not remember this part until just a second ago) her saying, "Clint, look at me, I don't like you, I HATE you, and I am sick and tired of you bugging me, so please, just leave me ALONE." I think I just sort of pretended it never happened. I didn't talk to Emily too much after that, and she moved to North Carolina at the end of the fourth grade. "Let Down" by Radiohead would be the theme song of that summer following 4th grade.
The point of the story is I was fucking for-real about what I wanted. It took some pretty abrasive words to get me to believe that what I was doing was not good enough. I did everything I could to let this girl know that I appreciated her more than any other, and it simply did not work. How many situations are like that, where your best just won't do?
Emily was a class-act. Intelligent as hell...always crafting the most immaculate art projects and always two places in front of me in the honor role. She was beautiful, and to me she was a Renaissance woman among elementary school girls, kicking my ass at everything except for perhaps the spelling bee. Her favorite Beatle being Ringo was a factor for me deciding that I was going to be a drummer.
I haven't thought of a girl like that since then. Hormones and realism have fucked everything up.
One afternoon I received news that Emily "kinda liked me" and my response was quite simply running up to her and just shouting "I love you I love you I love you" over and over again. After that overreaction she kinda cooled down and gave me a poem called "What if Dragons were Knights?" with the K pencilled in before the misspelled "night." It was one of the strangest poems I had ever read, and while I can't remember any quotes from it specifically, in the bottom I saw some pencil etchings that had been erased. I could still read it though. It said, "To Clint, I don't like you." Of course back then "like" meant cherished, adored, and desired in the most romantic of ways, so came the discovery that this poem was originally intended to be a sort of consolation prize I suppose.
But I still kept coming back to Emily. Sitting across from her at lunch, shooting the shat, and every so-often confessing the persistence of my adoration for her, always yielding fairly lukewarm responses. This all come to an end one day in the library where Emily would specifically tell me to meet her in the back of the library because she needed to tell me something.
I remember, almost verbatim, (And I did not remember this part until just a second ago) her saying, "Clint, look at me, I don't like you, I HATE you, and I am sick and tired of you bugging me, so please, just leave me ALONE." I think I just sort of pretended it never happened. I didn't talk to Emily too much after that, and she moved to North Carolina at the end of the fourth grade. "Let Down" by Radiohead would be the theme song of that summer following 4th grade.
The point of the story is I was fucking for-real about what I wanted. It took some pretty abrasive words to get me to believe that what I was doing was not good enough. I did everything I could to let this girl know that I appreciated her more than any other, and it simply did not work. How many situations are like that, where your best just won't do?
Emily was a class-act. Intelligent as hell...always crafting the most immaculate art projects and always two places in front of me in the honor role. She was beautiful, and to me she was a Renaissance woman among elementary school girls, kicking my ass at everything except for perhaps the spelling bee. Her favorite Beatle being Ringo was a factor for me deciding that I was going to be a drummer.
I haven't thought of a girl like that since then. Hormones and realism have fucked everything up.