How to find love - Chapter 2 - Gingerbread

Dear Reader, 

The truth is I am really proud of myself, I am good at starting my ideas, much like this blog but it’s not often that I really apply myself. Sometimes writing doesn’t come easily, especially when I know it’s something I should do - don’t we love our brains? But after watching several hours of facebook videos about dogs being adopted I knew it was time to come back to this spot, on this uncomfortable couch, put on my low-fi beats and make this happen. 

This week, I am taking it back to the very beginning. The first time I felt something real. Back when it was just me, a lot of snails and my pink diary. This story starts with not one, but two crushes. Yes, you did read it right, seven year old me was very indecisive - I mean how was I supposed to choose between two boys, both impressive, both smart, both exceptional at basic facts and both with my favourite shade of hair - orange. The grand love quest, the standards by which I based all future boys, the awkwardness, the fear of rejection can all be traced right back to this girl, who liked both of these boys.

I did eventually decide who would be the lucky redhead, but it wasn’t until many years later. So get ready and strap yourself in, as I walk you through the wild journey which led to that very delicate decision. For the purpose of privacy and possible defamation charges within this chapter I will refer to these boys turned men as B1 and B2.

The year was 2004, I had just learnt how to tie my shoelaces and miss my mum. It’s true, I missed my mum so much at school that she thought it would be a good idea to put a photo of her in my lunchbox everyday. She was right - it was the best idea. B1 had swooped into my life as naturally as one does when they’re in the same class as you. He was in the top reading group, and all I remember was trying my best to get into that one, crazy huh even at six years old I realised that proximity was important in seduction. Despite the reading group, which I did join, I knew my best chance to showcase my allure was at unihoc. 

I had it in my mind that the more aggressive I was, the more he would respect my athletic abilities. So I tore up that court, made the other boys cry, smashed the ball everywhere and often took out the massive foam boundary sidelines. If there was aggression to be shown, I showed it and if there were goals to be scored, I tried my best to score them. 

But here’s the thing. Unihoc was on a Monday, and on a Tuesday everyone played flippaball (waterpolo) next door. Unihoc didn’t seem to be cutting it in my attempts to get a crush confession out of B1, so I knew I had to take it up a level. Could I swim? No. Could I touch the ground in the pool? Also no. It took me a whole year of convincing mum that I should play for her to sign the form. So you could imagine how shattered I was to see that B1 had been placed in a team different from mine. But my shattered state was short-lived. You see, when I continued to read the list, it turned out that B2 (the other mysterious ginger), was to be my teammate in this treacherous sport. I did as much for my flippa ball team as low ride jeans did for my premature hips. Absolutely nothing. But as I was focusing on surviving, B2 was swimming around like no one’s business, flipping and dipping and diving and thriving and whatever else you’re supposed to do. This very moment was where my impossible choice between B1 and B2 began. 

A year had passed and to my surprise I really hadn’t needed to choose between B1 and B2 - since neither of the gorgeous red heads had confessed their undying love for me. I resolved to drawing their last name in the space of mine and wondering what it would be like. There wasn’t a lot in my mind that was standing in the way between me and my potential love, however I was getting worried about a fellow classmate and her obvious obsession with B2, so I decided to steal her popcorn out of her bag and eat it. What seemed at the time to be an effective method of showing her who is boss, actually led to me getting in trouble for stealing somebody else's food. I should have taken the lesson on board a lot quicker than I did. 

It wasn’t until September of that year that I really made my decision as to who I was going to pick. B2’s house had been added to our paper run so I was enjoying the daily possibility of casually running into him outside his home. I could still tell you his exact address, and that might sound creepy, but instead I am going to turn that into a positive and highlight my spectacular memory. 

B1 was doing his usual thing of being good at everything which included owning one half of my heart. But that was about to stop, I was about to see a side of B1 that I didn’t find appealing at the time. We were in the same car on our way to unihoc when we first heard the sad news that Steve Irwin had passed away. Don’t get me wrong, I was not happy about it, who was? However I didn’t really have time to conjure up any feelings of my own as muffled cries started coming from the back seat. He was shaken, understandably, Steve was his hero. What I would now recognise as emotional maturity at the time seemed slightly pathetic. I’m unsure if it was the way that B2 scored every single goal that day, or the crying incident that made it clear to me - that I Emma Davison, aged 8 was definitely over B1. 

The next year there was a moment where I thought sparks were truly flying between B2 and I. We were playing Angelina and Brad Pitt - war edition. Wherein, a friend and I would sit in the biggest tree in the school yard and “knit” invisible underwear for him a.k.a Brad Pitt to take to war. Did I take him calling me Angelina as a sign? Of course I did. 

With all my love now dedicated to B2 came the first most embarrassing moment of my life. February the 14th rolled around and I had finally decided to tell him how I felt. So, I wrote him a little card that was filled with glitter and 9 year old confessions. I’m pretty confident, I noted not only our love for roleplay, but also his flippaball skills. I got to school that morning so amped to place it in his school bag without anybody noticing which would’ve worked perfectly if it wasn’t for two boys owning identical bags. I didn’t realise I had given it to the wrong boy until I came back in after lunch. B2’s cheeks were looking as bright as his hair and half the class sniggering. EVERYBODY KNEW he was my pick for valentines, and worse than that, everyone knew that it was an unrequited love. Can the ground swallow us up? Asking for a friend.

So with that it was over, the first 3 years of my love life had been spent on two crushes that panned out to one emotional breakdown (his, but still) and the demise of my social life. And what did I learn from this? Not a single thing.  

See you next week,

Unapologetically,

Emma