When you reach the point in your young life where you become attracted to that special person, it can be quite exciting. But it also can be confusing.

That first “date” may not end up being all you dreamed it would be. You feel like a young man, but you may be . . .

Still In A Little Boy’s World

     “I’m late,” I yelled to my mother as I raced out of the house. “I need to meet the girl of my dreams. She told me she’d be at the corner of Third and Elm at two o’clock. I’ve got to be on time.”

     “Be careful when you cross the street, Jimmy,” Mom shouted. “That’s a busy intersection.”

     “Okay. But I’ve got to get going,” I screamed, as I slammed the door behind me. But would she recognize me? Did she even know my name? I don’t know if I told her. I don’t know her well. Just saw her on the playground a few times. But she did say she’d be there.

     I hurried down the driveway, picked up my leaf-covered bike I’d left on the side under the oak tree last night, mounted it, and peddled with the power and fury of a madman. Arriving at the scene of what I pictured as the greatest day of my life, I tumbled off my bike that fell with a thud to the ground. I tried to calm down, but to no avail. My anxiety level made me sweat like a running faucet.

     Breathing hard, I turned and stared. My heart pounded with excitement and my eyes bulged out of my head. My face became flushed. I wiped the sweat from my brow and attempted to adjust my baseball cap I soon discovered I wasn’t wearing. I shivered as the hot autumn afternoon sun beat down on me.

     My world had turned upside down. I couldn’t think straight. Every part of my body sagged in mystifying ways. I needed to take control of the situation. 

     I gathered my wits about me and managed to straighten my sagging torso. I sucked in my stomach and made a vain attempt to puff out my chest.

     Then I noticed my baseball cap on the ground. I picked it up and positioned it on my head with the bill bent down over my face. “I’ll be her mystery man,” I stated with conviction.

     This was it. My chance might never come again. I had to get it right. I’m a man, so I must act like one.

     With my head held high and my shoulders squared off like a soldier at attention, I marched forward with great confidence. I moved with the grace of a young buck ready to make his presence known to a herd of doe in a beautiful green field. Engrossed in the pursuit of love, I didn’t watch where I was going. I stumbled and fell over my bright green bike that lay in the path where I’d dropped it and landed head first in a patch of soft grass, bruising only my ego. 

     Regaining my composure, I stood up and brushed myself off. I took out my comb from the back pocket of my pants and combed my hat, now quite crushed from the past ordeal.

     Nothing was working out the way I had planned. I summoned courage from within. I’d die if . . . “Oh my, this can’t be happening to me,” I moaned in frustration.

     I gazed in the direction of my future happiness. Why has everything gone wrong? What can I do now to make this happen the way I want it to?

     My ears perked up. I heard girlish giggles just ahead of me. Now was my chance.

     I approached with enthusiasm. My heart pounded in my chest. And then I saw her— the “love of my life” standing before me. With all the strength I could muster, I gasped, “Hello.” 

     She giggled. Her eyes surveyed the area and then focused on me.

     “Oh my, she’s looking at me,” I whispered to myself. She had a beautiful smile. Her golden hair, surrounded by a bright sunlit sky, glowed. Her big blue eyes made me melt. Perspiration poured from every pore of my body. 

     I took a deep breath and muttered, “My name is . . .” Oh, no! My mind went blank.

     She gave me the weirdest look and then laughed in a way that stabbed me in the heart. “Oh, my God, I’m going to die,” I murmured.

     Dumbfounded, I couldn’t utter a word to make the situation better. I stood in silent disbelief at what had occurred, as she again rocked my world.

     “Grow up, little boy,” she said with a snicker in her voice. “My name is Zoey. Maybe, you’ll remember yours, when you become a man,” she proclaimed, with such force, I almost peed my pants. And than she turned away from me and swaggered out of my life.  

     As I watched the girl of my dreams dance off down the street, my head fell and my heart stopped beating. At twelve years old, I would die alone in sheer agony. She did it. She killed me. Never again will I make a fool of myself. Not me. Resolved to be a bachelor forever, I crawled back into my own world.

Copyright © 2009 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.