It seems fitting to start at the beginning. The first boy I ever fancied. What a train wreck that turned out to be. Rewind to 2002. I was 13 almost 14 years old. Just coming out of my Tom-boy phase. My friends and I had just completed our weekly Friday night trip to the cinema, and were walking past a block of apartments where our parents used to meet us for our taxi service home, when a boy of a similar age, whom I shall call David, walked towards me with his friends in tow.
I instantly fancied him. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked. I told him and he continued keenly ‘I’ve never seen you around here before…?’ At this stage my friends had left the two of us to chat and had moved a couple of paces away. My phone started to ring. It was my Mum. Time to go. This brief encounter was coming to an end. Little did I know what effect this boy would have on my life years down the line.
‘I have to go now’ I explained, sensing he was a bit gutted (as was I) I tried to keep my cool. ‘Maybe see you around, David’. As I went to walk past, David pulled me back gently by my hand and kissed me on the lips. My first kiss. It was short but sweet. ‘I’ll remember you’ he said, ‘I want to see you again.’ With that I was gone.
I will leave David’s story here, for I didn’t bump into him again for another 3 years or so. I sometimes thought of him and wondered what his story was, and why he appeared from nowhere then seemed to disappear so easily. But that story is for another day.