Early in my freshman year of high school I developed a crush on the guy who sat in front of me in Algebra.  He had a nice body, passionate green eyes, beautiful brown hair, and luscious lips.  He hung out with the “skaters” (the rebellious kids) but also seemed like the quiet, sensitive type.  The finest thing about him?  His rattail.  This was the early 90’s, when those were still cool…sexy even.  Oh yeah, also back then we used the word “fine” the same way today’s kids use “hot” to describe a cute guy. 

So even though I sat behind this dude every day, I was convinced he didn’t even know I existed.  Unsure of how to catch his attention, I went to my mother for advice about talking to boys.  I described all of his foxy features, including the rattail.  She suggested a little coy flirting.  “What do I do?” I asked, “What do I say?”  She replied, “Just give that tail of his a little tug, then smile sweetly and say “just wanted to see what that felt like!”.

The next day I sat behind him in class and stared at that silky soft hair, working up the courage to try Mom’s plan.  Finally, I pulled on his mane gently and he whipped around.  I could feel my face burning red as I barely squeaked out my line.  “Bitch.” he spat, then turned around and tucked his tail into his shirt. 

Huh.  That didn’t exactly go as planned…or did it?  Now at least he knows I’m alive.  And that I’m into freaky stuff like hair-pulling.  Maybe he just wasn’t mature enough to handle a flirtatious woman such as myself.  Or maybe he was gay.  Alas, our love was never meant to be.  And so began seven months of awkwardness in Algebra class….

Happy Valentine's Day!!