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Oscar.
The first boy I ever had a crush on is the boy that I am married to.
I know. Crazy. True love at its finest, a friends-to-lovers story right in front of your eyes.
He had black hair, and though it wasn't curly, it was very big. It kind of resembled a bowl cut. If my memory serves me right, he was the most popular boy at daycare, a proper gentleman, and quite the charmer.
He proposed to me while it was playtime. I think I was sitting on a bench with a friend, and he marched right up to me and asked me to marry me. Then, 5 minutes later, he asked my friend the same thing.
I haven't seen Oscar in over ten years, but a part of me still believes that I'll find him one day, and that's not for the lack of trying. (Social media is very useful.) I still have one singular photo of him, and maybe I'll employ Twitter users to help find him (I won't; that's a bit invasive, and who's to say he'd be happy to know me), or I'll keep him to myself so I'm not left disappointed. Surely, we have to meet again; we're still married. And though we never said 'I do' in front of a priest, we said it in front of 10 other 3-year-olds, which is basically the same thing.
I am a hopeless romantic at heart because though I say that Oscar and I will meet again with the clarity of someone who understands how silly it is to believe that you'll get married to and raise a family with a person you went to childcare with whom you haven't seen in over ten years, my heart says otherwise. Deep down I believe that one day we'll meet again. Maybe while I'm visiting my old childcare, he'll be there visiting as well, interacting with the children, laughing loudly with them as if he's a child himself. I'll watch him, my heart will flutter, and as my eyes roam over his face, I'll see something familiar in his big brown eyes and hair, maybe shorter than the day he proposed or still styled in that silly-looking bowl cut. And maybe I'll approach him to say “Hi” and find out that he’s here to visit too. I'll ask his name, then his age once he's said it. Then I'll ask if he remembers that he proposed to me some years ago and see recognition or confusion on his face. I'll retell the story I’ve now told you guys, and we'll laugh over it, talk some more, then exchange numbers and plan to meet again for a coffee. Or drinks because "This was really great, and I'd love to see you again."
Maybe Oscar is my soulmate. Perhaps he is the one. Maybe.
Tony.
The second boy I ever liked was Tony. We went to primary school together before I moved out of the city and into the suburbs. We shared a class, and he had a small yet discernible mole on his face.
That's all that I remember about Tony.
I liked Tony a lot.
At just seven years old, I planned an elaborate way to confess my love to him. I would ask him to meet me at a tree, then I'd tell him to close his eyes, and I'd plant a kiss on his cheek. I'm not sure what I had planned to come next if I'd then proceed to profess my love with words or runoff due to the sheer embarrassment of doing something that ballsy.
Obviously, I never actually went through with the plan. Even at seven years old, I knew it was weird to kiss someone without asking permission and requesting that they close their eyes before you do so. That's just creepy!
I only remember two things about Tony. His race, which is unimportant to me, has never been important to me when it came to liking someone. And his little mole.
I know that Tony was the first boy I ever wanted to confess my feelings to, and he's the first boy I didn't tell.
Daniel.
Pronounced Danielle
I never had a crush on Daniel when I was younger, but he is my soulmate.
Our mothers were good friends, and so, in turn, we were good friends.
I remember that there was a time when I spent more time at his house than I did my own. His mum would pick me up after school with Daniel (pronounced Danielle) in tow. Once we got to his house, I'd watch him and his mother spar with their words about when the appropriate time to do homework was (to him, NEVER to her, as soon as he got home from school.)
Daniel was homeschooled because while he was in school, he was a very naughty boy and very disruptive, but the last straw was when he bit a teacher. He was expelled. From then on, his mother homeschooled him, and I got to brag to all my friends at school about the friend I had who didn't have to go to school and got to stay home.
Daniels's mum used to take me all over the city; I don't think I ever spent one day in her company stagnant. I have three very clear memories of my time with her and Daniel. The first was when we were on a tram together, heading somewhere. All I had stuck in my head was the Nicki Minaj song 'Right By My Side', which I definitely should not have listened to at age 7, but I was. The second is heading home from the local pool because she used to take us swimming all the time, which is ironic to me now since I am a horrible swimmer. I guess I didn't retain much. And the third was the time I lost my school bag at a furniture store we'd gone to because, once again, she used to take us on adventures everywhere, and I mean everywhere.
When I look back on my childhood, much of the time I spent with Hannah and Daniel takes centre stage. They were like family to me. They were family.
My love of custard comes from staying at her house for dinner; the dessert she’d make us would be custard mixed with cut-up fruit.
I remember helping Daniel with his homeschool homework.
I remember hanging around other kids that Hannah sometimes cared for with him.
I remember him being there for me when I first experienced what it was like to be a girl in this world and how cruel little boys could be.
I remember going to the playground with him.
I remember finding him so fucking cool.
I remember loving him in the pure, unadulterated way a child loves another child.
Daniel was my best friend.
And I'd like to think he would have continued to be had I not moved houses in 2012.
The last I heard of Daniel, his mum shipped him overseas because he was still a very naughty boy.
Apparently, he likes it there.
Apparently, she plans to bring him back once he graduates high school there. I hope she does.
I'll be honest when I think of Daniel now: my thoughts are clouded with 'What ifs?'
What if I hadn't moved away?
What if our mothers had been better at keeping in contact?
What if an entire ocean wasn't keeping us apart?
What if I found your mother?
What if?
What if?
What if?
What if you were the one?
Have I mentioned that I am a hopeless romantic? Though I never liked Daniel romantically at the time, whenever I look back on my childhood memories, I see all the what-ifs and daydream about what could've happened. It's like my memory of him now and forever will be shrouded in these questions I ask while wearing these very pink, very bright rose-coloured glasses.
I think of Daniel now, and I think of a friend I once had and also a future I could've had. A future I can still have.
Maybe.
This is already longer than it should be and probably not the right choice for a first blog post, but it says a lot about me.
Thank you for reading my first blog post that puts my inability to let anything go on display; I hope you enjoyed it and choose to come back again! :)
Left to Right: Rerny (me!) Daniel :)
Right to left: Random girl, Oscar, Rerny (Me!!)
Left to right: Aunt, Daniel, Rerny, Mum, Family friend, Family friend, Ernest (my brother!)
So cute rerny
So cute rerny