My First Crush

My First Crush

By

Gregory Forster, Jr

Hmmmm. This is usually the hardest thing for me to think about. Why, you may ask? How could I find difficulty in expressing that greatest emotional moment that we have no control over and find hard to describe? Well, because…it is that great emotional moment that I have no control over and find hard to describe.

OK, ok, let me explain. I am one of the fortunate few who had a fantastic childhood in the ‘70s and ‘80s. STAR WARS and Star Trek were two of my closest friends, “physical” friends and I would play football on the main road and not care, and girls, well…girls were in the way. Us boys were bonding under the banner of testosterone and hormones we didn’t know existed. The last thing we needed was for those of the feminine persuasion to show up and mess up our time to rip and run with total abandon. For us, it was all about McDonald’s, trading cards and getting muddy from playing in the creek that ran through our entire neighborhood, our playground.

Then here came 1980 and the many joyous things that came with it: Springtime, The Empire Strikes Back, Summer Time and the sleeping in late that came with it. Oh, yeah, I was geared up for the next 8 months of this start of the new decade and had no clue about the protest of the Summer Olympics, the hostages in Iran, Pat Robertson running for President or the fact that there was a Mt. St. Helen blowing smoke and ash into the atmosphere.

Well, those next 8 months were well spent and turning 12 was the greatest birthday I ever experienced. And then a discovery was made that, yes, I was a male who was beginning to notice the females that surrounded me. ALL the females, I might add. Now, it might be said that making “female discoveries” on church grounds should be a shameful and appalling act. Not when it came to me and my swelling manhood that always made itself known when girls of the same age or older were walking around. The funny thing was they didn’t even need
to be wearing short shorts or bathing suit tops. The fact that tits and ASS was around me was enough. The feminine gender was in my personal space. Well, actually, it wasn’t in my personal space and I really wanted my personal space invaded. Oh, yeah, I wanted it invaded BADLY!

Like I said, January through August was great, exciting, hot(although not as hot as in Dallas, Texas. I was glad I didn’t live there) and I won that argument with my mother about going to see movies by myself, especially The
Empire Strikes Back. Oh, yeah. Everything was going my way. Well, I can’t really say that because there were some unexpected changes: mowing the lawn that was flat at one point then went up at a 47 degree angle, my voice going from the highest soprano in the school to a sound that resembled a confused, choking goose underwater and developing underarm odor. Not fun, people. Not fun.



Well, September and Indian Summer began and there must have been something in the air or in the music that was coming out of the radio or some mysterious additive was put in fast food or something because it appeared that I was flocked by girls of the same age or a little older. Here’s where the first crush comes in. Like I stated before, I was 12, I discovered the joy of being a male and was being teased by a girl that we will refer to as Carol. Now, here was a giggly freckle-faced girl who wore glasses and had braces in her teeth and who sported one of those feathered-style hairdos that I suspect was fashioned by her mother putting a bowl on her head and prayed for the best. But that wasn’t going to get between us. She was budding quite nicely and things would bounce when she ran toward me to hit me and then run away.

Needless to say, my focus was diverted and locked in to two very important attributes of hers. There were no other two to speak of, I promise you. But, again, who cares? She was diggin’ on me and gave me reason to dig on her. And then she was 14, too? Oh, yeah, baby. I was going to pursue this with all I had. Forget that fact that I had no uncles or cousins or lying friends to show me the art of wooing women or the art of seduction. This was going to be experienced with total intuition and going with the gut.

Now, I must confess this part gets a little cloudy in the mind when I recollect this because, for one, I can’t see how it came to pass. I remember I was pushing her on the swing, deliberately putting my hands on what ass I could touch, and then she asked me to help her down from the swing. I did help her off the swing and helped myself to copping a feel of her breasts, and in front of everybody around us. I was on a testosterone high, my manhood was hard and dripping like a faucet that just would not close, and didn’t take into account of the consequences of my actions. I just grabbed me my first set of titties!

I tell people all the time that it was at this moment that I began to suffer from “love sickness” and would fall victim to this ailment until 25 years later where I found my cure. That is another story in itself. So, I digress. September is when Carol and I went on camping trips with the youth group of The United Church. This during that era when you could actually walk through the woods without fear of being jumped by some thug or drug addict or something that would “kill the mood”. No, bears and deer did not come to mind then.

Anyway, she and I always tried to find that spot that was away from the group so we could feel up on each other. She grabbed my crotch, I grabbed her tits and we kissed. We were two inexperienced young people who didn’t EVEN have a clue to what we were supposed to do. All of those pictures I saw in those contraband Playboys and Penthouses weren’t helping me and I’m sure if she caught a peek of Playgirl it wasn’t a reliable source to recall and assist with these type of relations.

Well, somehow we became boyfriend and girlfriend although we went to two different middle schools, only saw each other in Sunday School and/or youth group meetings and only got to spend time on those infrequent out of town trips with the pastor. Yeah, we thought we were an item. Quite honestly, I am not sure WHAT we had. I think hormones blinded me to the whole of the thing. Those times spent in my room with the door locked somewhat occupied my time and my portion of common sense, too.

Well, the spring on 1982 came and somehow we made the decision that we were officially broken up. I laugh when I think about this because breaking up back then was SO melodramatic. We teenagers didn’t even have a clue to what
relationship we had. Oh, well. That was my first crush, or should I say my FIRST first crush. My SECOND first crush? Well, you’ll have to wait and see.