The first time I ever passed a note to a girl saying I “liked” her was in 8th grade at Fremont Junior High. Her name was Susan and she was in my social studies class. I remember writing the note at home, which proclaimed in adolescent drama, “Susan, I really like you. David.” After enduring an insufferably long weekend waiting for Monday’s class, my moment had finally arrived. When class was dismissed my heart began to race and my palms grew sweaty. Oblivious to my intent was Susan, who sat in the row next to me. As she stood up to leave the room I quickly tossed my note on the desk in front of her, saying that this was for her. She looked puzzled while one of her friends, who saw what I did, turned and asked her what I’d given her! At that moment I walked as quickly as I could out of the room, almost running, into an open courtyard, whose concrete surface was wet from an early morning rain. In my haste to make myself scarce, I slipped and flew up in the air like Charlie Brown when Lucy pulls the football away! Landing on my back nearly knocked the wind out of me. While one of my buddies stood over me to see if I was all right–trying to hold back his laughter–I realized, as gazed up into my friend’s face, which was framed by a gray and cloudy sky above, that I simply did not have the moment I had envisioned as I folded my note the previous night. As for Susan, I found out afterward that she already had a boyfriend and didn’t appreciate my note very much, which she made clear the next day as she deliberately kept her distance from me.
[photo credit: David Martínez]