Your Unforgettable First Crush

The Frisky found the most wonderful video called My First Crush by Julia Pott. It’s made even more charming by the British accents, which make any ordinary sentiment sound special. Wendy Atterberry accompanies it with some charming remembrances of her own girlhood crushes. 

You can find more awesome stuff by Julia Pott at her MySpace page.

So let’s trade first crush stories! Here’s mine:

I had just finished fifth grade, a year spectacularly devoid of cute boys. My most memorable entanglement that year was with George Spatz, a boy whose waistband rested just below his armpits. It was not a good look. I say entanglement because we did develop sort of a stalker/stalkee relationship, and eventually Mrs. Allen had to intervene.

That summer I went to sleepaway camp for the first time. I was a troublemaker. I set my cabin on fire by pouring Jean Nate bath splash on a light bulb as a kind of early aromatherapy. (Seriously, I was way ahead of my time.) But that’s another story. This story features Andrew, a 19 year-old confection of pure perfection. 

One day the youngest kids went on a group hike in the woods. As we made our way, I noticed that some of the trees had orange markings on them. I assumed they’d been painted there by the counselors to show the way, kind of like Hansel dropping crumbs as he walked. I convinced another girl to run ahead of the group with me, following the orange marks and getting to our destination way ahead of everyone else. A hot dog roast waited at the other end. We gleefully ran for what seemed like hours, though it was probably an hour or so. Eventually we came upon a half-constructed highway, and even my 10 year-old pea brain realized that the orange markings were for the highway crew, not the campers.

It was dusk before the counselors found us, frightened and dirty wandering in the woods. But what I remember best is Andrew. He picked me up and carried me back to civilization. I knew harsh disciplinary measures awaited, but all I could think about was whether he thought I looked cute in his arms. I had lost my shirt somehow, and was wearing nothing but shorts and a little wife-beater type undershirt. In my mind, it might as well have been a Regency gown. I convinced myself that Andrew’s rescuing me would lead in the days that followed to an emotionally charged fire in his loins, and a rough but passionate embrace at snack time.

I’m sure the only action even remotely located near his loins occurred when I scared the crap out of him that day. I don’t think he returned to camp the next year -- in any case I was over him by then. I’ll never forget Andrew, though. He was my first serious erotic fantasy.

Do you remember your first crush? Was it requited? Or did you never tell?

Tags: boys, british accents, counselor, crush, cute boys, erotic fantasy, fantasy, jean nate, Julia Pott, remembrances, romantic fantasy, summer camp, video, wendy atterberry