I was I guess a confident little 8 year-old, having just naturally shed all of my blond straight hair and grown into a new set of brown mop – I was like a new kid with my different looks, and not to mention, my new chopper. I had discovered what it was like to talk about what I thought were deep things with girls, free from the feeling that I might look silly or naff with the other boys I knew.

I had become close mates with a girl in my class at school, B.R. By the time the last term arrived it seemed we would talk all the time to each other about life, stuff – practicing for the real thing later on in life I think. We smiled a lot. Our sense of intimacy grew to a point that one day in the playground, all of a sudden, she kissed me on the forehead – I was gob-smacked, but liked it and smiled back at her, and she at me. There were other kids around and I could tell that she was as self-conscious as me. I knew I really liked her, but, of course without any of the know-how, confi­dence or pubescent drive I simply refrained from following it up. We each spent the remainder of the term playing on the field and talking again, but not quite so much – we were each quite shy. To make things trickier she had an older sister who was around quite a bit, and her mother taught in the class in the next block – there was no way I wanted to seem like I was too forward – a polite distance was the right thing to keep. To top it off her family moved to the Shore, so after that I thought I would never see her again.

I missed her, but sure enough I soon forgot about her and got on with my little life. The strange thing was, by the time I started university I came across this woman in the library – she was as I could tell my age, and she was to me radiant and drop-dead gorgeous. It seemed that she recognized

me too. She seemed to have a sister hovering in the midst as well. And, she seemed to look like my old friend B - this was all quite strange. I was too shy to say hello, shy, all over again. Months or so passed and still I did not pluck up any courage. We always noticed each other though, yet we always carried on our way. Eventually I realized that she and I had a mutual friend, who would say hi to both of us as either one of us passed through the passage ways to the library. I subtly followed her up with that friend, and sure enough, it was her. Because of knowing this I became nervous, and thought, that she must have considered me to be a weirdo or something like that because

I wouldn’t say hello. And above all else, I explored the notion that perhaps she might not like me in return. I got really close to saying something

to her one final day. But, my heart had given up; there was no way that it was going to happen. Despite my feelings my distractions had taken

over – I had found someone else – a love a long way off in Germany. I never did find out if she felt the same way about me. And the last time I saw her was in my third year – by that time I don’t recall stopping for a second to think about her.

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