The beginning of my true love story
I remember the day when I first saw him and it feels like it was just yesterday. My friends and I were walking on the loggia and then, just like in one of the H-Town mush movies, time just stood still. The dry leaves stopped in midair and so did the rest of the world. He was coming from the other side with his pals. He was so handsome, so dashing and so all that. Who was he? He was a senior, and two years older than me. I got to know that later that day.
Where there is a will, there is a way, especially when it comes to information. I was in eighth grade and he was in tenth grade. Wow! His class was very close to the ladies' room. I started frequenting the loo so much that my teacher had to send me to the sick room to check if I had some bladder infection. She was right, I did have an infection. It was love.
Within no time I had all the information about him. He had an elder brother who was married. He lived near the city hall. And he went by the route '3' bus. Sadly, I went home by route '1' bus.
I tried going once by route '3' bus. He was there, reclining in the back seats, talking and flirting with his girlfriends. It wasn't a pleasant sight. To make things worse, going by route '3' meant that I had to walk four miles back home. I wanted him to know that I liked him but at times, I wanted the secret to die with me. Now I wonder if that was limerence or true love I was feeling for him. I guess there was that bit of girliness underneath my skin of a tomboy. How could I tell him, should I even tell him, and other questions along those lines became more important to me than algebra and differentiation.
I loved him, I was sure of that then.
I wanted to marry him and live happily ever after. All this, without ever knowing whether there was a girl in his life or whether he would ever like me. I was pretty sure he would like me. He was supposed to. Everyone liked me. Why wouldn't he? I could never summon the courage to tell him.
The days passed and I passed into my ninth grade. Now I was a big girl who was trying to hide the tomboy in the closet. I was a girl who was trying to be a girl. I grew my hair despite my battles with the comb. My skirt got shorter and my socks got lower. Although I wasn't allowed to wax in my traditional school, I didn't have to worry about that. I had great legs. I wanted to lure him with my beauty. I was beautiful although I wore glasses.
In ninth grade, my class ended up being the one opposite his and I didn't have to frequent the loo to see him anymore. One time, he got a sty in his eye and I felt like I had one too, the whole week. I had two Valentine's Day cards, two get-well-soon cards, and one Congratulations card when he won the Badminton's Title. Although I never gave any of them to him. And how could I have given it to him, he didn't even know that I loved him.
The first conversation of love
But I was certain that he knew about my secret love story, how could he not know that I loved him when the whole world knew it. The sky, the trees, the earth, my badminton racquet that I picked up when I knew it was his favorite game, and all my friends. How could he be so ignorant of my eyes which were so full of love and my heart which sighed every time I saw him?
I never tried to conceal my love, but I didn't want to force him to love me. I had walked half the distance for him and wanted him to cross the rest. I knew he would come. Every year, a sports tournament was organized by the school and students from all the schools across the country participated in it. It was a big event in September. It was a very exciting experience and the perfect platform to meet new faces and a chance to express your crush, love and… whatever!
I was being desperate and itching to shed the goody-two-shoes. If only I could tell him, everything would settle. Feminism was in, a lot of girls ask guys out, and I was not an alien.
I made up my mind to tell him in the Badminton court. I had kept a nice frock for the occasion. I wore it, tied my hair in a ponytail, applied home-stolen scarlet lipstick, and my aunt's heels (which were way too big for me). I was ready to dispatch myself for the mission.
He was there as expected, like the Prince Charming of Cinderella. And I was his Cinderella, only without the glass slippers. Or so I thought. I went to the court where he was practicing and occupied a corner. He was playing and I had to wait for him. He looked at me and I waved. He turned away, no hints there. I stood there for an hour and he was still playing. Why can't he stop for a minute and listen to me? Maybe he wanted to meet me alone and so was pretending to play.
My mind was working furiously. But I could see that he wasn't focused on the game as he was missing many shots. He walked up to me. "Hey, whom are you waiting for?"
"Y…ouu…" All I could manage to say, after stuttering for a minute.