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An Ode to Michael Who Was Far From an Angel
Seven years I pined, and for what?
I feel like I have to preface this little interlude with some facts.
One, you must understand that I come from a very repressed (to put it lightly) upbringing. You’ve read some stories mentioning my Baptist schooling, right? Well, that wasn’t all of it. For instance, my mother’s first reaction to learning I had a crush on a guy was to take the internet away and limit my phone access. She also always made a point to tell me that girls never chased guys. “Let them come to you first” — and all that.
Second, every year at school there were only two or three guys in my class. What does that mean? Well, girl-to-guy interactions were pretty rare — yes, because of the underlying religious aspects and those no-no’s but also because of the fact that boys were in short supply. And we girls tended to crush en masse on one boy or the other. (There weren’t a lot of options, okay?) I can say for certain that at one point a guy in my class one year had at least six or seven girls crushing on him. Yeah. It was bad.
Third — I am not the best when it comes to feelings. I am on one end of the spectrum or the other, switching between hot and cold, playing the game of an ice queen or just tripping over myself to make an impression on the guy in question. And…
