Love, Love, Love.

My box was empty. Not a single card. Not a one. Directly across from me sat Brad who by this point was overflowing with excitement as he approached his desk. His box was stuffed to the nines. Some of the cards had even fallen over on to the classroom floor. Brad sat down and feverishly went through his collection – like a pirate sifting through his booty, or a rubby counting his cans at the depot. Brad was the cool kid and I was not. Brad was getting all the attention, and I was feeling sorry for myself.

It wasn’t that I wanted all the Valentines… and it sure wasn’t that I wanted all that attention or to be the coolest. How could I be? I wore blue sweatpants to school every day. I had a bright green fanny pack that contained my Montreal Canadiens velcro wallet, that within contained my most valued hockey cards. I spent the lunch hour singing Beatles songs out in the corner of the school yard. There was no way I was going to be the cool kid. I just wanted one card from one girl. The cutest girl in the class, who lived just down the street from me. The one girl that made my heart go weak. The first girl I ever tried writing a song about – Becky. Sadly, Becky barely ever said a word to me, let alone confessed her love on that Valentine’s Day.

Looking back at that moment, it’s strange that it has stuck with me all this time. It certainly wasn’t a life-changing moment. If memory serves me correctly, my infatuation with Becky lasted all of a month. That’s probably an aeon in grade 6. It’s strange how some things just stick with you. I have done just fine in the love department since then thank-you very much. Fast forward to today and I’m almost certain that Brad works as a plumber, has 3 kids and hates his life. Last I heard , Becky had crabs…..




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