The Prompt: Tell us about the first person you “fell” for.
Ah. It was 4th grade and his name was Brian Stupar. He was one of the smart kids, light hair, very slight. If I close my eyes, I can picture him sitting in the classroom talking with his friend Chris. I remember all of the other girls liked boys so I decided I would like a boy, too. And since no one else picked Brian, it seemed like a good match.
Chris had a broken arm? leg? something so he and Brian and their new BFF (me) spent our recess time in the classroom writing out Roman numerals. Yeah. I never really understood that either. But I was so sure I was going to just marry Brian and not go through all of that dating heartache that I wrote “I Love Brian Stupar” in black magic marker on the pine hardwood floor of my closet. When I visit my parents’ home, I sometimes take a peek and its there. Every once in awhile, I think about snapping a photo and posting on Facebook. Fortunately, my father never discovered my transgression (defacing the floor, not the romance itself.)
There was no romance. Brian was as interested in me as your typical 4th grade boy is interested in any girl. Which worked out well since I’m a lesbian.
Time passed and I moved on to other unrequited crushes. I sort of lost view of Brian even though I knew he was still in my grade. Once time in 11th grade, we both showed up at the local Wendy’s for a job interview. He told me about his band for 30 minutes. That’s the last time I remember talking with him. I don’t think we had any classes together or anything like that. His mother worked at a local grocery store and throughout the years, she would give me little updates but just “mom friendly” updates.
We became friends on Facebook, but he doesn’t seem to use it. Still, it is nice to know he’s out there – hopefully, happy and having a good life. I took a break from this blog post and did a little google. This is all that I found.
So Brian remains a man of mystery to me and perhaps that’s for the best. The Roman numerals never took (I can only remember up to 10) and I think it would be a good skill to have retained when I’m looking up publication serial numbers on mystery series. See, book geek, not a Roman numeral geek.
Oh, yes. Brian’s uncle was a police officer in the region. In the mid 1990’s he pulled me over for an expired inspection sticker. I confess my shameful secret – I invoked Brian’s name & even my crush – and – no ticket. So I probably owe Brian a beer.