Today at the groccery store with my almost three year old, I saw one of the boys I've loved before (thanks, Jenny Han, for that poetic phrase).
The one that had my exact same birthday and it was a point of unification for me to build a little crush on. (while my crush didn't last, I did feel a little sad when he walked past me like a stranger in the store today.)
And that got me thinking about the other boys I've loved before.
The one who played the organ at church after youth group, and I would sit and listen to him play and let the music build me little castles in the air (we hardly ever spoke, but his mom is friends with my mom so I periodically hear about him, he got a whole degree in organ music which is cool).
The one who was on debate team with me, and made me feel like I was someone worth talking to and more than just "a girl" (we went to different high schools and that was that).
The one who walked around barefoot with a mohawk and played guitar in our dorm and was super cool, but had a girlfriend who became like a big sister to me so I scolded myself out of the crush as quickly as I could. (They're married and still my friends now, I'm really glad I got over this one)
The one who had a girlfriend, and I knew it, and I told him I was into him anyways in the dark of night on a religious retreat, and he was very sweet and let me down very gently. (I was too embarassed to speak to him much again after that. He married that girl.)
The one who liked country music, and helped me with my homework, and let me read the draft of his horror novel, which I read because I had a crush, and then I sobbed violently when I thought he was going to date one of our other friends. (he didn't, but by the time I knew that I'd moved on)
And then...the one. The one that stood a foot taller than every other guy in our dance class, and hunched his shoulders to try and hide it, and our teacher kept telling him to stand tall. The one that I looked for on campus but never found, because he didn't actually go to our school, he was just taking the dance class to meet people (girls. he wanted to meet girls. don't let him tell you different, that was the story). The one who asked for my number to practice dancing with me, who practiced with me every week for three months before asking if he could come home to meet my family one Sunday after church, and I forgot that it just happened to be Easter Sunday that week. The one who took me on our first date on my parent's wedding anniversary, and three years later took me back to the same spot to ask me to marry him. The one who made his mini-me with me, and now I love that little boy more than any other boy I've ever loved before.
Happy Valentine's Month to all the boys I've loved before, but especially to my husband and my son.
