His name is Scott Brewer and until recently (like just before I hit Publish on this post) we were Facebook friends. For the record, I never reached out to him in any way, never liked one of his photos or commented on any of his status updates. He didn’t either. I don’t even remember who friended whom.
I also don’t know why I liked him, I certainly never spoke a word to him, but he was oh so dreamy, very all-American looking; tan, blond hair, that would turn green in the summertime from hours spent in the pool, piercing blue eyes and he was never without a baseball cap, which teachers were constantly hounding him to remove.
My best friend at the time, Michelle also had a crush on Scott Brewer. He was never just Scott. Always Scott Brewer.
We were only classmates for two years, if that. Second and third grade.
It wasn’t until five years later when one of my all-time favorite movies came out that I truly understood what a crush was. In the wise words of Jim Baker: “That’s why they call them crushes. If they were easy, they’d call ’em something else.” (Sixteen Candles, 1984).
SIDE NOTE: From his blurry Facebook profile pic, Scott Brewer did not retain his good looks and I find a little satisfaction in that.
There were many, many crushes to follow: Frederic, Tariq, Lorin, Robert, Steven and those were all before I hit high school and my raging hormones really kicked in and I discovered Tiger Beat magazine.
This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop Prompt #5: First crush.