I used to have a craving to see guys naked as a kid. I once cornered a kid in my house and asked him to pull his pants down so I could check him out. Poor guy. He was shy, and I remember doing a lot of negotiating with him before I convinced him it was the right thing to do.
Once that was successful, I did the same thing to my best friend (who lived in my neighborhood). I took him to where there was a shallow cave and finagled him into an exchange where we both took our clothes off and looked at each other.
I swear, the EXACT second we had our clothes off, my brother walked by and saw us. He ran home screaming “I’m going to tell Mom!” I honestly thought she’d kill me, or I’d get thrown into 6-year-old prison for uncontrollable curiosity. Luckily she didn’t really have much of a reaction past saying “That’s not a nice thing to do.”
That was something Mom loved to say a lot: “That’s not a nice thing to do.” In spite of the fact that she grew up the middle child of a poor family of 19 kids, she became a woman that knew next to nothing about the world. I, on the other hand, was always trying to figure out what made the world tick, even at 6. So I heard “That’s not a very nice thing to do” a lot. I never understood it, though. It was Mom’s code message to me that whatever I was doing, Mom was uncomfortable with it. I didn’t need to understand the whys, because she didn’t want to talk about it.
So, I knew that being naked was something nasty, I just didn’t know in what way. Of course, when I did learn about sex — I must have been about 16 or 17 — I was truly grossed out. I didn’t lose my virginity until later on in college.
What was it about nakedness that was so intriguing for 6-year-old me, though? I knew NOTHING about sex — it wasn’t about that at all, it was about figuring out what was different between boys and girls. Why did we look different?
Anyway, I digress. My six-year-old buddy was a pretty good friend. I never thought of him as a boyfriend. At that age, you don’t think about girls and boys in THAT way, you just are either friends or enemies.
At 13, my first crush was on a fellow classmate. I followed him around like a puppy until I grew out of the crush. He was a sort of homely looking guy, but I think that was an early signal about my personality. For the rest of my life I sought out guys who were different. I’m very attracted to intelligence and creativity in a man, but creative or highly intelligent men are often tortured souls and not good mates.
At forty, I took the common sense approach and married someone who is very normal and happy, with no torture whatsoever in his soul or childhood. Maybe it’s because Hubby is an identical twin. How much more well-adjusted can a kid be than to have a best-friend sibling that’s the splitting image of themselves, in a family with doting parents?
Oh, ok, so what would I say to this 13-year-old crush if I saw him again? I’d probably smile and say “Have a nice day”. Because there’s no way in hell I’d recognize him. I don’t even remember his name.
Did I ever tell you that I lived next to my next-door neighbor for three years before I discovered he was a guy that worked on the same project (under the same boss, and sitting in a cubicle about 4 rows down from my cube) as me? And the neighbor on the other side of him worked at the same company but different building. Um… we’re in rural Massachusetts where the lots are large. Yeh, that’s why.
So maybe my 13-turned-60-year-old non-lover is a neighbor too, who knows.
Written in response to today’s WordPress Daily Prompt First Crush : Who was your first childhood crush? What would you say to that person if you saw him/her again? Thanks for suggesting this prompt, Bailey T.