Thinking and writing about girls I had crushes on, I had forgotten my experience in 8th grade with a girl who had a crush on me. I’m trying to think of a pseudonym, since I’m thinking everyone should be protected that way, but should be able to be referenced with a proper noun. Not that leaving names out has always helped, when people know who I am talking about, entirely aside from whether I’m being a raving lunatic at the time.
Dora. That works. No maps or backpacks though.
Dora teased and tormented me all through 8th grade math class, last period of each day. It was a wild bunch generally, with me being the island of calm studiousness. “Bright spot” in 7th period math, the teacher called me. I had no idea what she was on about, but even then I knew some of it was a little risque.
It’s not that she was unattractive. She was more mature than a lot of the girls, and looks more womanly in the yearbook picture, taken at the beginning of 8th grade, than most of the girls. She was also the center of wildness in the class. Had I been paying attention and had I been thinking of who I might date for more mature pursuits, that could have been interesting. I was completely focused on my 7th grade crush for the first couple months or so of 8th grade, until I embarrassed myself by, in writing and not in so many words, saying I loved her.
Then I was focused on the rebound crush who was safely less attractive. In there I was also crushing to some degree on a friend’s younger sister, and a different classmate who, I’m reminded by the yearbook pictures, was stunning. Call her Jane. I actually had noticed Jane in 7th and it was because of something she wrote for English that made her sound like me, enjoying the woods, shooting a bow and stuff. In high school, don’t recall seeing much of Jane until she was in a class with me in 12th grade, getting razzed a lot because she had gotten married at a very young age. I gathered this was sped up by the loss of whatever family had been raising her.
But I digress. Dora would have been exciting, maybe brought me out of my shell, maybe corrupted me in some ways. I also didn’t see her in high school. At all. She was there, but she was among the crowd who could be found out drinking and smoking, and circa 11th grade was rumored to have gotten in a bar fight that caused her to miscarry.
She’s not one of those I feel bad about letting down, because I didn’t fully catch on until after the fact, and it would have been odd even if I’d have gone for it. If she had been even more forward and just plain asked me out, I don’t know how I might have reacted. It was one of the most obvious hinting or acting out campaigns I have ever seen from someone who was apparently interested.