I've been reading and sharing entries from my teenage diary in this space. I'm remembering how boycrazy I was back then. Ok, so I'm still boycrazy, but I was much much much worse in my early teenage years. That was before I was jaded and skeptical about the opposite sex. Back then, I saw every cute boy (although, looking back, I'm not sure why I thought some of them were cute) as a potential Prince Charming, someone who was going to swoop in and make me feel all the things I only heard in songs and read in books.
I don't regret having that optimism. Sometimes, I wish I still had it.
What I regret about all that is how open I was with it. When I liked a boy, I couldn't keep it a secret. In fact, it's still hard for me to keep that secret. It's been a few years since I had a true crush, but I think I've probably only kept one (a boy I still refer to as "Eye Candy") a secret from everyone around me. But when I was a teenager, I couldn't resist gushing about the new object of my affection and how deep my affection was. Although I was constantly surprised and mad when the boy found out, I shouldn't have been surprised. Perhaps on some level, I wanted him to find out. In my dream scenarios, he'd find out I like him and instantly rush to find me to ask me out. That never happened, of course. In fact, the reaction was usually the complete opposite. No boy was ever thrilled to find out I liked him. He was humiliated. A few made that known directly --- telling me I was a "fat, ugly loser" or flat out avoiding me. Others decided to make sure I felt every bit of humiliation they did, so they made my affections a joke among their friends. News of my crushes filled locker rooms with laughter.
I wish I had been a bit more secretive about my crushes. I don't know that it would have resulted in more dates during my high school years (I can count the number I had on one hand). But it might have saved me a lot of heartache and loads of embarassment.
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