A/N: This is a reflection on many different boys in my life, not just one.
You came to me first in middle school, when I grasped for popularity and shallow things. I wanted to be liked.
You laughed at my awkwardness, and I don't know if you even really cared that much about me. But I sure thought you were cute (In my shallow, middle school way).
You were a popular boy, and the subject of many a girl's secret chattering. Your initials were scrawled on many different binders, and your hair-flips made several preteen hearts flutter. (What was it with those hair-flips? I thought it was cute at first, but seriously… did you get neck aches? Headaches?)
I think I was very against liking you at first, and I don't know if I even liked you all that much.
But you sure were cute. I hope you thought I was a little cute. Though at that time, I was utterly convinced that I was hideous.
High school came, and I was stuck in my long awkward phase (I swear, it lasted forever). My boobs were just too big. And my thighs were fat, and my nose was massive. Well, that's what the mirror whispered to me. It constantly snickered at the weird dimples in my thighs and the acne that would periodically pop up on my face.
Then you came along. Another boy, that is.
You were short (well, for a boy), and I think you were the same height as me. You had a cute smile and curly hair, and an awesome sense of humor.
You sat next to me in orchestra, where that troll of a teacher reigned like a tyrant.
I have no idea why, but we got along famously, despite the fact that my self-esteem was the size of a bean and yours the size of an elephant.
My hair was short from that stupid "maybe-if-I-chop-my-hair-off-I'll-be-prettier" phase. I remember one time, you touched my hair. I swear, that made my day (secretly). It might have even made my week.
You teased me all the time. Whenever we would play our violins, we'd glance at each other over our bridges and bows and snicker when one of us would mess up.
Now, you were a special boy. I don't think I've met a boy since who has made me respond in the same way.
When I saw you, my entire body would go into hyper drive.
In one second, my palms would grow moist. My heart would start feeling weird and fuzzy. My stomach would dance around. My knees felt like they were made of rubber. I swear, even the arches of my feet would grow weak.
I'm sad, though. Because I took to avoiding you after we no longer sat together.
You must (must) understand me when I say I was jealous. There were so many cute freshman girls in our class, and they flirted with you like none other.
I felt like a tall, fat loser. You flirted too, don't even deny it.
So, after I started avoiding you, there was nothing for you to do but do the same.
But then, I remember you would look at me across the room; you in your little gaggle of freshman and me with my strange friends. Did you like me?
I think you might have.
But my sweetest memory in that sad time of avoidance was when you decided to sit next to me during a rehearsal.
The song was way too easy (It was also utterly retarded). But for some reason, we both played it horribly. (don't forget, you were the concert master)
I know I played badly because I was nervous. Were you nervous too?
I hope so.
Sadly, we still haven't talked since.
Time went by, and my silly girlish passion for you faded. I struggled with awkwardness and depressing thoughts about how ugly I was.
I joined a rowing team, and I got a little leaner.
However, I was still sad and I found solace in the internet.
That's where I met you. You strange, strange boy.
You're still out there, and you may very well be reading this.
I remember we met through this very site, and you were very droll and a little sarcastic.
I want you to know that I appreciated your smart remarks and periodic compliments.
The first stage of our online friendship was the best, I think.
We joked and talked about silly things. We were so young!
But then, I told you I liked you and you me, but it didn't work out because real life got in the way.
You went away for awhile. I went along with my life.
I kept growing and growing, and I grew super tall. (well, 5'11)
Still, no boys really talked to me that much.
There was one boy in my pre-calculus class who, though I didn't care for him much, declared that we were married.
What a weirdo.
You, internet boy, that is, showed up again at some point, but our friendship was only a friendship. There was trouble in paradise with your girlfriend, and I, being the silly naïve girl that I was, comforted you. I really shouldn't have been so open to you.
You left again, though I can't remember why, and I, once again, went along with my life.
College came around. I was so scared. But for the first time, I felt pretty.
One boy asked me out over facebook. That was awkward. It was also the first time I had officially been asked out. I don't know what it was, but that year I seemed to attract short, portly young men. Weird.
You came around again, Mr. internet boy, and I talked to you so much that year. I already knew you were handsome, but gosh, I fancied that you were gorgeous.
Though I hesitated to tell you because you're kind of arrogant.
We continued to talk, and I fancied that I liked you again. I told you so, but you told me that it wasn't meant to be.
Instead of being angry, I thought long and hard.
Then I realized that there was absolutely, utterly no good reason for me to be an online friend of yours. I mean seriously. What was the point? A handsome boy and a naïve girl like me who lived just too far apart? There was no freaking point.
And you knew how to manipulate me, don't lie. I decided then and there that I'd have to distance myself from you.
So I did. And it was kind of easy, since it was on the internet. (I always feel so silly and stupid reminiscing about my internet relationships!)
In your absence, I ran into another boy at my work.
Now you. You were something else, boy from work. I had worked with you the previous summer, and I had had a crush on you. But now, you flirted with me so much more.
But the problem was that you weren't a Christian. And I had decided a long time ago that I would never date a man unless he loved the lord our God just like I did.
In fact, Internet boy, you weren't a Christian either. Yet another reason I had to distance myself from you.
But, work-boy, you made me blush so much! You were such a flirt. (Not to mention, a bit of a womanizer, to be honest)
I thought you just liked flirting with me. I felt like I was a little too tall and a little too awkward for you to actually like. (Just like I felt with any other boy I fancied)
Then she came along. Oh good lord. She scared me.
She waltzed into the little ice cream shop that we worked at, and she took you by the collar (not literally, of course) and declared that she liked you.
You, being the womanizer that you were (and still probably are) had no qualms about that.
But I still remember the day that you decided to let her into your little ring. She was hanging all over you in the back room, and I was standing there, forcing myself to be conversational.
You looked at me with a strange expression, almost asking, what do you think?
I shrugged awkwardly, and I guess you took it upon yourself to go along with her.
It was so freaking, freaking awkward working with you two. Don't even deny it.
She hung all over you and you would put your arm around her waist and ugh. Lordy. It was horrible. It hurt, too, because despite the fact that I would never date you, I still thought you were cute and funny and just a little bit too charming for your own good.
And it wasn't like you were even dating her. Ugh. She was a… hookup. What a nasty word.
It brought along so many ugly weird vibes.
It only occurred to me recently that you might have been trying to make me jealous.
Finally, I began to see that you couldn't stand the girl. You just… used her. Which was horrible.
I found out one day that you liked me, through your weird, car-obsessed friend.
"You two should hook up." He said, in response to my baffled stare.
"I don't hook up." I stuttered.
"Well, you should date him." He continued.
"I don't date." I blustered.
"Well, you two should hang out!" He concurred.
"I… guess so." I murmured.
Believe me; I was so flustered. The very idea that you, mister I-like-hot-girls-who-party would like me, miss I'm-retarded-and-awkward-and-kind-of-shy-and-let's-not-forget-that-I'm-a-strong-christian.
I'll admit; that was the first time I've ever found out that a guy I was actually kind of crushing on liked me.
Sadly, you must have taken my reaction to your friend as bad, and you quickly got back together with your old "STD girlfriend" (Which, by the way, you called her that).
I hated it so much though, because sometimes I'd see that lost look in your eyes. I wanted you to be good. I wanted you to know the sweet Lord. He had taught me so much already.
When I left for school, I gave you a hug on the last night of work. I don't know if it meant much to you, but trust me: it was important to me.
I slowly and hesitantly moved on, because I felt like I had hurt you. But what could I do? You shut me out. Our only real communication, facebook, was taken out of the picture because you upped and quit.
I always thought it was funny, because now, looking back, I realized that you sent me so many bumper stickers as a form of affection! You wanted me to know that you hand-picked those bumper stickers, just for me.
What a strange boy you were. But you were cute, I'll give you that. And you had a motorcycle. How cliché.
My second year of college came. I was without a boy to like, and I was kind of wanting to find one. And lo and behold, you came along, mister nerdy art boy.
You were freaking adorable. Seriously. I loved how nerdy you were.
But, well, somehow you just became cool. Suddenly, everybody liked you. And I'll have you know, I hate liking boys that everybody likes. But yet, I'm drawn to them!
I loved your curly hair. I loved your cool face. I always thought your face structure was likeMichelangelo's David. Those high cheekbones, that small, slightly bent nose, and that lovely quirked mouth.
Though, I'll admit, I'm still a little mad at you. But that's only because you didn't like me back. Oh well.
But, then you came again, internet boy. You told me I was right about all the things I had told you. You said you'd changed, and that you wanted to start where we left off (more or less; I'm just paraphrasing, honestly)
But, my heart was sick of it. I just couldn't let you back in. And don't think I hate you, because I don't. I appreciate what you contributed to my life. I just knew that there was no reason for us to keep talking online.
Some may ask why, but well, really. What point is there, if you're not going to up and marry the boy?
What? Some may query. But you forget, I'm a Christian. I'm not going to go hook up with some boy across the country. I just can't.
And if I got married to somebody else, what would the point be to keep talking to this mystery man from across America? None.
And Yes, internet boy, you can call me silly and crazy for thinking that far in advance. But I'll just say it's for self-preservation. And I know I came off as harsh. I'm sorry. I guess I'm just such a pushover that I had to reverse the polarization for a moment to push you away.
But you must admit, you were a jerk to me quite a bit. And I think that's partly my fault for being such a doormat. That aside, I just don't need that kind of relationship ever.
But what is the point of all this rambling?
All of you boys, all of you shaped me. I never dated any of you. But you still shaped me. There were others, to be sure.
There was the boy who I fought over with my friend and who was all the while completely oblivious and went on to date the gorgeous girl who was so far out of our leagues that we were humiliated that we thought we had a chance with him.
There was also the weird tall artsy boy who I met at a five-week long summer art camp who made me feel positively odd (in a good way) and who wasn't at all attractive but was so attractive at the same time. He never said he liked me, but I think he might have. He looked at me quite a bit and he gave me a huge hug on the last day. I couldn't breathe properly.
Oh, and we can't forget the arrogant boy who, despite the fact that he was utterly gorgeous, was a total butthead. I stared at him across the orchestra room (because he, too, was in orchestra). But, after awhile, I grew to just like him like a friend. He still is sort of a butthead, but he can be nice. I think since I don't show any attraction to him anymore, he feels that he doesn't have to impress me and thus, he is nicer.
Let's not forget all those tiny crushes that lasted two weeks or less.
But all of you boys, you never made it into my heart. I've never been in love.
I never dated a single soul.
I've never even been on a date.
And I wouldn't call myself ugly. I'd even go on to say that I am quite pretty.
But do you know why?
It's because of the strange, effervescent presence in my soul; some may call it a myth, but others call it The Holy Spirit. Yes, I'm all crazy now.
But no. God prevented me from losing my heart. Every time I'd start to look at a guy, a small voice in my heart would say a gentle no.
I would still run towards guy after guy, but it just never worked out. I fully believe that God used different ways to stop them from escalating to relationships. And He was always there to comfort me in his strange, abstract, quiet way when I'd cry over my pathetic "love" life.
I've had lots and lots of unrequited crushes. They sting like fresh wounds sometimes, but they've taught me to be realistic and careful with who I look at.
And I'll let all of you boys in on a little secret: I'm waiting.
The perfect man for me? He's out there. He's so handsome in his own way. His voice will sound like music to my ears. (well, for a little while. I'm sure he'll piss me off sometimes)
I already know that he has a killer sense of humor.
I also know that he's very athletic and outdoorsy.
And I know he won't be perfect. He'll be downright impossible sometimes.
But most importantly, he will have a strong relationship with Jesus.
We'll be able to share a common bond with our beautiful, powerful, never-ending creator.
And you know what?
I am so totally willing to wait for him.
And I want to thank all of you. For not asking me out on a date. For being imperfect and teaching me that all boys are weird and PMS-y (I'd say more so than girls sometimes). For hurting me, because otherwise I'd never have healed into the person I am today.
But more importantly, thank you for hurting me so that I'd run straight into the arms of the sweetest, strongest, most just, beautiful, and perfect man in the world: Jesus.
And I'm just going to let him be my matchmaker because I sure as crap don't know what the hello kitty I'm doing.
So, Lord, I trust you. Teach me to be patient for the man you have made for me. And let him be patient for me, too.