My First Crush Part 1 – “Eyes Wide Open”

Good morning, peeps and peepettes. I was inspired by a fellow blogger to write about my first crush. Again in the theme of leaving the old behind and starting anew, I thought I would write about it to symbolically "let it go." So here’s how it all went down…

In kindergarten, I met a little dark brown boy... Jarrod*. Jarrod had the smoothest skin I'd ever seen and the brightest smile south of the Mason-Dixon line. We were Mrs. Smith's star pupils - me, because I could already write "in cursive" and he because he was so articulate for his age.


Even at the tender age of 5, I was entrepreneurial. Jarrod would give me a Now-and-Later or a couple Lemon Heads (depending on what he had at the time) to write his name in cursive for him on a little piece of paper. He did this a few times and would show them to other kids and then began giving them out like business cards. He basically helped me start my first business, because shortly thereafter, kids began paying me a dime to write their names in script as well. And back in 70... ehem, the early 80's, a dime to a kid was a grip.

Well into first grade, Jarrod and I were thick as thieves, but there was a little white boy (we'll call him Jimmy*) who was pushin' up on a little sista, and at that time, I just went with the flow. Now, I wasn't trying to be a playa, but sometimes things happen. Unbeknown to me, Jarrod thought we had alittle sumthin' sumthin' because we would mostly hang together in class -- we even made sure when it was nap time that our mats were all but touching. Not to mention my little business venture afforded me to be caked up on a daily basis, so I would share the wealth with him freely come snack time.

However, during lunch, we hardly saw each other as I mostly ate with the girls and he with the boys. Back then, "Black" and "White" didn't really mean anything to us, so we had friends of both races. (I can't say all races because at that time in Southern Alabama, you were either Black or White. I don't remember anything in between (other than myself) until I was in Junior High.

One day, late in the school year, Jimmy talked me into going on an adventure towards the back of the school yard where the big oak trees were. We rarely ventured back there as it was mainly a stomping ground for the "big kids" -- you know, fourth and fifth graders. But on this day, I went.

Jimmy was a smooth talker, even through his gapped crooked teeth. While he was a scrawny, somewhat dirty-lookin' kid, I was a sucker for his compliments of my long, pretty braids and my red and yellow flowery custom-couture frock from the "House of Mama." I guess you could say this was my "rough-neck period."

By the time the lunch bell rang, my back was against one of those big old oak trees and he had pressed his lips up against mine – eyes wide open. I don't remember our bodies touching, but I remember he had a funny scent – bologna I think. I do remember that we ran back through the yard holding hands, sprinting to be inside before the late bell rang.

Well, this kid named Barney saw the whole scandalous episode, and word spreads quickly at Daphne Elementary School. By the time we made it back into class, everybody knew I had been ho’in’ around with Jimmy among the oak trees. I had disgraced my family name, but what hurt even more was how Jarrod stopped talking to me. He wouldn’t respond to my little notes and he ignored me at break time for the rest of the school year. No one knew why, and he wasn't telling - although there was some talk about him being jealous of what I did with Jimmy. [Background music: Cherrelle's "I Didn't Mean to Turn You On"]

Jarrod used to come to my mom’s store every so often with his mom, but that summer I didn’t see him once. I asked how he was doing and his mom told me he was fine and had gone to summer camp, but I knew camp didn’t last all summer and that he was avoiding me.

At the last minute during the first week of my second grade year, my parents decided to put me, along with my two brothers, in private school. I was glad because I hated my teacher Miss Jay. Jarrod had been put in a different section so we weren’t in the same class, but I did see him during break and lunch. He still wouldn’t talk to or acknowledge me. I wouldn’t see him again for almost 5 years, nor did I ever see Jimmy again. And I can't stand bologna.

To be continued…

*Names have been changed to protect the privacy of those persons referenced.