When I was in the fifth grade, I had to sit behind a boy named Chris Shrader who, besides poking my back with a pencil and copying my science homework as often as possible, would every once in a while throw his basket ball at recess making sure it hit me specifically. This was a typical fifth grade crush; not from my part but from his, and it was the first time I realized how unfair love could be. Chris Shrader had a terrible ADD and was extremely hyperactive. I always wondered why he had chosen me as a candidate when it was pretty obvious that I could not stand him, but felt weird hurting his feelings deliberately by telling him the truth, so I kept my hatefulness to myself and let him hit me with his basket ball at recess. I also remember hearing him tap his pencil against his desk every afternoon, waiting to get my attention as our teacher wrote verbs on the blackboard, and I kept wondering if drum classes would suit him better than school.
When I was in the sixth grade it was my turn to fall, and I developed a tremendous crush on this boy called Anthony Batista. He was in the eight grade and in the choir group, and would always play lead roles on every school musical from " My Fair Lady" to "The Music man." At the time, I did not realize how gay he was, and rather believed he was the coolest boy ever. This would be a constant pattern in my future life of adulthood: falling for boys that practiced Ballet, or who wrote poetry and ended ditching me for other boys. But when it came to Anthony Batista, I always thought of him as a young version of Oscar Wilde's character, Dorian Grey. I must confess that I stalked him like a pro too. I would call his house and hang up the phone, too nervous to say anything. I would go to my school's auditions and get a part as an extra just to run into him more often, and I even made friends with one of his friends to have a "contact."
The only time I remember him coming up to speak to me though, was one evening after school, when I saw his lean figure walk towards mine, his golden curls shining in the sun as he greeted me with a: " Hey, I have caller ID. You should stop dialing my number all the time." How hurt I was that night after my first formal rejection from somebody I did not even know! And thinking back, I ask myself what made me select him from the crowd of strangers and pick him as somebody to have a crush on.
When I was finishing the seventh grade I met Jasmine Garsd. We had always seen each other in school, but had never really met. She had puffy blond curls and huge threatening green eyes. She also liked to read a lot just like I did. Both our parents were teachers and I am guessing that because I was pretty anti social in school and Jasmine was a loner, a plan had been ideated to hook us up as friends. One Friday night her mother invited my family to their apartment for dinner, so we all dressed up and paid them a visit.
That was the first time I walked into Jasmine's room and as she gave me a tour through her apartment. I could only think how interesting it must be, to be her. I also remember how perplexed she left me when I first saw her art work; it seemed like it was from this world, but a little gone; It was scary, and it was very very real, just like she was. I decided that I wanted to be her friend, and only hoped she would accept this petition, reciprocally. She did and ,in a way, this was the first time that somebody I wanted had accepted and wanted me back. So this is how Jasmine Garsd became my best friend: not an unwanted stalker like Chris Shrader and not an uncontrollable crush like Anthony Batista; but a real a friend. And up to this day, my relationship to her has modified the way I relate to others. I look for reciprocity now, between friends, between lovers, and between workmates. If there is none of that, then I leave, just like she did later on.
I really don't know how to end this entry, except by saying that if I had to pick between Anthony Batista and Jasmine Garsd, I would probably pick Jasmine as my favorite childhood love, because friendships are more real than a young infatuation : they are a mutual infatuation, and one does not even have to hang up the phone once the number is dialed, or play an extra in " My Fair Lady" just to get close to them.