When I was in third grade – the second time (I’ve explained a bit here) – I was a bushy haired nerd invisible to boys.
I think this was key on my attitude towards men now; I had a lot of time to observe from the sidelines and developed a good sense of how boys behaved, their likes and preferences. Afterwards, when I was in college and muster enough courage to begin talking to guys, I knew how to do it. I could talk cars, movies, I knew boys really like to see a girl laughing sincerely, having fun, a smart fact every now and then is absolutely necessary. I was never intimidated by a man, no matter his position or knowledge (and I’ve met some extraordinary men).
But it all it started when I was in third grade. No boys from my classroom every talked to me, unless they were making fun of my thin legs. Until Francisco came along.
Francisco was easily the most handsome boy among the three third grade groups. He had black hair that was always perfectly styled, even after he played basketball. His face was perfectly contoured, he had beautiful dark eyes and really long eyelashes. All the girls were crazy about him. Older girls were included. Heck, even the teachers would tell him how cute he was.
My best friend was talking about this a few days after he started in the school when I told her I knew Francisco. We had been in the same school when I was in preschool. OMG she said, or whatever was equivalent in 1987. I was so lucky I knew him. Except he, as every other boy in school, never talked to me.
One day though, while we were waiting for our classroom to be opened something amazing happened.
Francisco was standing on top of the stairs with two other boys and most of the girls in our classroom, including me and my best friend, were sitting in the steps beneath them. One of the boys asked Francisco “so, which girl do you like?” He said he didn’t know, he liked a few. (Oh, yes, Francisco was quite the womaniser from an early age.) “which one do you like most?”
And Francisco stood up and looked down. I gazed straight into his eyes, which I now think was something bold for a girl who had no communication with boys. He smirked and pointing at me said “her”.
Everyone started oohing, my best friend pushed me to him while I refused. I smiled softly at him and returned to my place in the steps.
A few moments later our teacher opened the classroom and everything went back to normal, but for a few moments I remember being the girl that the cutest boy chose. It taught me that could happen. Little did I know the story would repeat itself later.