The Crush List
1. Ryan Russell
2. Franky Buffay
3. Hans Schmitt
5. Kirk Yates
12. Patrick Fenaughty
13. Doug Northsworthy
This is a list of all the guys who have ever had a really big crush on me. And never gone a step beyond that. I am a beautiful, skinny, tall, blonde-headed girl. I’m smart, kind, generous, and very helpful, or so I’m told. And this isn’t how I usually write. You’ll find me always writing fiction, poetry, or lyrics. Poems and songs that go deep, and fiction stories about magical lands I wish I could escape to. All of this other stuff usually is trapped in my head, pushed into the corner and forced not to care. But I do care; I’m just too… humble I guess you would say to bring it up. I’ve never been one to brag; in fact I spent most of my life previous thinking I was fat and ugly.
I should brag- I have a lot to brag about. Modesty, honesty, loyalty- only some of the important qualities I possess. And these are the qualities I value. None of these crushes had them. Unlucky number thirteen, the only one who made it to step two, only to chicken out, never speak to me again, and then move out of state. I must carry some sort of disease only visible to one who has a crush on me. My one fatal flaw- my skin is as dry and course as the Dust Bowl of the 1930’s. My face is fine, fair skin, with only a touch of make-up, looks as flawless as can be. My hands, well, that’s another story. “Old lady hands” some have remarked. I’m not proud of it, and most of the time not ashamed. But it certainly makes holding hands with your “lover” much harder.
That’s what scared number thirteen off, you see. The Incredible Hulk was just fine; Edward Norton and Liv Tyler provided all the necessary romance, when he reached for my hand. His reaction delayed, he staggered a smile, and we didn’t speak for the rest of the movie. He walked me to my father’s car, and from the tinted window I saw him for the last time.
My cell phone never rang again; he never again attempted to play games with me, or try to convince me to sneak out after school to make-out together. I wasn’t heart broken, or even the slightest bit ruffled. I never shed a tear over Doug Northsworthy… and I never will.
I don’t want to waste my time with guys I know won’t do me good. But then again I do. I’m just trying to fit in I guess you’d say. It feels as if something must be wrong with me. I’m the only girl in my grade that hasn’t had a real boyfriend. I’ve never even really kissed a boy, as long as you don’t count Truth or Dare. I just don’t get it. People who look worst, or have worst personalities get more boyfriends in one month than I have ever had in my entire life.
I’m beautiful, skinny, tall, and have golden, curly blonde hair. I’m smart, kind, generous, and very helpful. So what have I done? Where was my mistake? Where’s the flaw? What’s my major set-back? Where’s the turning point, the part that isn’t good enough, or too bad that it chases people away? Why must they all admire from afar, but never up close?
What’s wrong with me?
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