This is a piece I wrote about the first time I ever confessed my romantic feelings for a boy.
Playground Games
We met in September of 1996. At five years old, you were already the class heart throb. I don’t know if “charismatic” is
the proper word to describe a little boy, but you had this charm that made all the girls chase you on the playground. I hated
when we played House during recess and another girl got to be your wife. We were in all the same classes from
kindergarten with Mrs. Gonzales to 6th grade with Mrs. Florig. And with each grade that passed, my school-girl feelings for
you grew stronger.
As the years went on, I learned more about you. You were born on December 22, 1990, just two days after I was born
and in the same hospital. I took a secret pleasure in that fact because it was something that no other girl shared with you.
Everything about this crush was secret. You were cute and funny; I was shy and taller than everyone else except for two boys
who were labeled “early sprouters.”
You were a little shorter with buzz-cut brown hair and liquid blue eyes. You had a smile that curled mischievously at the
corners but also charmed teachers so you wouldn’t get time-out. The girls you liked were petite with long hair and an ability
to get doubles in kickball. They were the girls who didn’t have to go home and lay face down on a couch crying because a
boy called them fat. If anything, they cried because they had too many boys flirting with them and they couldn’t decide who
they liked most. Back then, I thought they were the girls who deserved you. Not even the naivety of youth could save me from
realizing you didn’t like me. But I couldn’t stop liking you.
On the playground in 5th grade, we played truth or dare with a few other kids. When my turn came around, I avoided
“dare.” I was afraid of being dared to take my pants off or jump from the very top of the slide to the ground or eat a bug. It
was your turn to ask. You stood before me with your hand grasping your chin and your eyes slightly pinched at the corners.
You stared at the sky, pondering. Then you finally spoke. I should have seen it coming.
“Who do you have a crush on?” you asked.
I immediately felt as though my body was on fire. I was sweating, turning red, and panicking. I bent forward as if your
words had punched me in the gut. Though I know it must have only been a few moments, it seemed as though hours had
passed as I scrambled for an answer. The truth held nothing but humiliation. But if I said “no one,” you surely would
have called me out on my lie. I clenched my fists as tightly as I clenched my eyes and whispered the word “You.”
I kept my eyes closed and waited. After a few moments, I slowly peeked up at you. You stared back, nodded slightly,
cracked a smile, and said, “Oh, ok. Cool.”
You didn’t sweep my off my feet with some sappy line of poetry or kiss me to the sound of an invisible orchestra. This
was no magical cinema moment. But you didn’t reject me which was better than I was expecting.
During indoor recess the next day, you approached me as I was browsing board games. I looked up and smiled when I
saw your face. You took me aside and asked, “Remember what you said on the playground yesterday?”
Of course I remembered. I nodded.
“You were just kidding, right?”
Your words punched me in the gut again. This time, however, I forced myself to stay upright. I faked a smile and said,
“Oh that? Yeah, of course I was totally kidding.”
“Okay” you said, looking almost relieved as you walked back to your desk. I covered my heart with my hand as if to
muffle the sound of it breaking. Then I sat down at my own desk, wishing and wishing that I could go back in time and
choose “dare”.
Playground Games
We met in September of 1996. At five years old, you were already the class heart throb. I don’t know if “charismatic” is
the proper word to describe a little boy, but you had this charm that made all the girls chase you on the playground. I hated
when we played House during recess and another girl got to be your wife. We were in all the same classes from
kindergarten with Mrs. Gonzales to 6th grade with Mrs. Florig. And with each grade that passed, my school-girl feelings for
you grew stronger.
As the years went on, I learned more about you. You were born on December 22, 1990, just two days after I was born
and in the same hospital. I took a secret pleasure in that fact because it was something that no other girl shared with you.
Everything about this crush was secret. You were cute and funny; I was shy and taller than everyone else except for two boys
who were labeled “early sprouters.”
You were a little shorter with buzz-cut brown hair and liquid blue eyes. You had a smile that curled mischievously at the
corners but also charmed teachers so you wouldn’t get time-out. The girls you liked were petite with long hair and an ability
to get doubles in kickball. They were the girls who didn’t have to go home and lay face down on a couch crying because a
boy called them fat. If anything, they cried because they had too many boys flirting with them and they couldn’t decide who
they liked most. Back then, I thought they were the girls who deserved you. Not even the naivety of youth could save me from
realizing you didn’t like me. But I couldn’t stop liking you.
On the playground in 5th grade, we played truth or dare with a few other kids. When my turn came around, I avoided
“dare.” I was afraid of being dared to take my pants off or jump from the very top of the slide to the ground or eat a bug. It
was your turn to ask. You stood before me with your hand grasping your chin and your eyes slightly pinched at the corners.
You stared at the sky, pondering. Then you finally spoke. I should have seen it coming.
“Who do you have a crush on?” you asked.
I immediately felt as though my body was on fire. I was sweating, turning red, and panicking. I bent forward as if your
words had punched me in the gut. Though I know it must have only been a few moments, it seemed as though hours had
passed as I scrambled for an answer. The truth held nothing but humiliation. But if I said “no one,” you surely would
have called me out on my lie. I clenched my fists as tightly as I clenched my eyes and whispered the word “You.”
I kept my eyes closed and waited. After a few moments, I slowly peeked up at you. You stared back, nodded slightly,
cracked a smile, and said, “Oh, ok. Cool.”
You didn’t sweep my off my feet with some sappy line of poetry or kiss me to the sound of an invisible orchestra. This
was no magical cinema moment. But you didn’t reject me which was better than I was expecting.
During indoor recess the next day, you approached me as I was browsing board games. I looked up and smiled when I
saw your face. You took me aside and asked, “Remember what you said on the playground yesterday?”
Of course I remembered. I nodded.
“You were just kidding, right?”
Your words punched me in the gut again. This time, however, I forced myself to stay upright. I faked a smile and said,
“Oh that? Yeah, of course I was totally kidding.”
“Okay” you said, looking almost relieved as you walked back to your desk. I covered my heart with my hand as if to
muffle the sound of it breaking. Then I sat down at my own desk, wishing and wishing that I could go back in time and
choose “dare”.