I Loved Him From Afar

I loved a boy from afar from grade seven through to college.
I saw him for the first time when I went to a volleyball tournament.
He wore the number nine.
And that is how I referred to him for years afterward.
He was  beautiful.
My number nine and I had a connection... except that he didn't know.
He was my secret... except for all of my junior high girlfriends.
The kind of boy you could love from a far,
because he was so perfect, you knew he would never look your way.

He was blonde and blue eyed.
An athlete.
Looking back I don't think he was very tall,
although at the time I thought he was an Adonis.

I would look for him at tournaments,
and eventually found out his name.
A name I still remember.
He was a year or two older than me, and did not go to the same school I did.

All my friends knew of my Amour,
and would be sure to let me know of any little tidbit they had discovered about him.
His whereabouts, his girlfriends, his haunts.

By the time I was in high school, I kept seeing him near my home.
He had moved into an apartment building just down the street.
I did not know if he was still in school or working.
But it didn't matter.
I only hoped that I might get a glimpse of him as I walked to school each and every morning.
Some days my wish was granted.
Those were very good days.

Finally during the summer after my first year at college.
I met a nice boy.
I loved that he called me Red.
Did I mention he was a nice boy?
He was the kind of boy who I knew would end up making someone a wonderful husband.
Of this I was sure.

As much as I knew that, he didn't exactly make my blood boil, palms sweat,  hair curl.
I realize as I look back, it was because he wasn't yet confident.
I wanted to make it work and continued seeing him much longer than I should have.

The night I knew I had to break up with him was very clear.
He had forgotten something back at his place and we needed to stop by there.
For some reason I had never been, and his roommate was home when we arrived.

There standing before me, as my boyfriend introduced me,
was my Adonis.
As though being transported back to that gym in grade seven,
I stood wide eyed and open mouthed trying to pretend I had no idea who he was.

I knew instantly I could no longer see my boyfriend,
as it wasn't fair to him that he had a girlfriend who was in love with his roommate.

Of course once I no longer dated Adonis's roommate, I no longer saw Adonis.
And that is the end of this fairy tale.
Not like Disney is it?
More like real life.

O.K. O.K. I did meet him once more at a night club, and as the evening came to a close,
he walked over and asked if I would like to dance.
He didn't remember me.
The song was a slow one.
It was lovely.
My palms sweat.
But it was still lovely.
I never saw him again.
He may have taken my number, but if he did, I've obviously blocked it out.
As I don't recall speaking with him again.

So when I ask my Eldest, who she has a crush on, and she tells me "no one"
I think it is important she knows that I don't believe her.
As she does have some of my DNA floating around in her somewhere.
Is it so wrong for a mother to know about any Adonis's that might be lurking out there?
I guess with face book the mystery and intrigue don't allow for the daydreams of my youth.

But that's OK, I'm sure I'll hear about it years down the road,
when she's in her forties and writes a stream of consciousness post...
spilling the whole story of her youthful longing onto the world wide web.

xoxo,


PS And while I wiled away many a day, dreaming about "Number Nine,"
      I have since lived my dreams for the last nineteen years with my very own "Ten".
      He knows who he is.