The love of my life

A Guy’s Perspective

I met her in grade 6.

I was 11 at the time. I was a geeky boy living in BC, Canada named Richard. It was the start of my first year of middle school. I didn’t have many close friends. I was in a class full of strangers.

My first impression of her was that she was pretty. She had amazing blue eyes, which shone full of life and laughter. Brown hair with blonde streaks, or maybe blonde hair with brown streaks fell curling around her face like a curtain. She had a tiny nose and a beautiful smile; dazzling white teeth would show when she laughed. Nevertheless, I didn’t know or care for her. I was too busy filling the stereotypical role of the anti-social nerd, which had been issued to me in elementary school by my peers.

Then, one day, we were given a seating plan. She was seated just in front of me, imposing upon me the fact that I had to stare at that beautiful hair 30 hours every week. Still, it was just hair, and I would just read my books and focus on the class. Until she fell that is.
She was walking past me towards her desk one morning when she stumbled. She tripped and stopped her fall by leaning on me.

She fell, and I fell for her.

After that moment, she just regained her balance. She apologized and sat down. Everything was normal for her. But for me, something was different. I really noticed her that morning, when she fell. It engaged my attention, and my mind called up all the snippets of conversation and chatter it had picked up in the background, coming from her desk. I noticed her personality, and was fascinated by it.

I learned her name was Cassidy. A very musical name, three syllables that twirl gracefully off the tongue. After that day I took every available opportunity to talk to her, desperately trying to conjure something witty or intelligent to say, but I would always end up blurting out something random or pathetic instead. Typical tongue twisted small boy around the pretty girl. Every word I said seemed like another step towards Oh-God-I’m-Ruining-Everythingville. Yet every word she said, every move she made, every step, blink, and breath she took was intelligent, interesting, or funny to me. I was utterly enchanted every time she looked my way.

One day we happened to leave the school at the same time, and I absentmindedly held the door. She said “thank you”.

So I did it every day after that.

Every single day for the next few months, I worked hard to time my leaving the school perfectly so I could hold the door for her without looking weird (which I probably did anyway). Most of the time she didn’t even notice. So it was because of this I met my two best friends. Cassidy having left the building somewhat late that day, my habits dictated that I did so too. Coincidentally, two other boys my age were leaving the school late as well. I walked home with them, and we became best friends. We still are.

But of course, being middle school children, any sort of crush must be shared eventually. And shortly before winter break I told one of my friends about my secret. And shortly after winter break, Cassidy was told about my crush on her.

I was sitting by my locker eating lunch with one of my other classmates when it happened. Cassidy, and her friend both came running up to us, and she asked one question:

“Richard, do you like me?”

Long story short, I ran. And I kept running. I ran through 5 more months of school. There was barely a single lunchtime when I was left alone. She chased me through the halls with all of her friends, trying to catch me for a reason I still don’t know. Sometimes I think that maybe she wanted an answer, to the question I never did. Yet instead of being caught, I ran. Sometime during that point I developed some sort of avoidance complex. I did my best to stay away from Cassidy, no longer holding doors or making conversation. And I was ridiculed as well. She and her friends would tell me little bits of information, in an attempt to get me angry or bothered. They’d try to convince me that my best friend had a crush on her as well, or that she had a long-distance boyfriend named Gregory. I still don’t know how much of that was true.
When the end of the year approached, I felt sad. Even though it would mean an end to the constant running, I did, in a way, enjoy it. Just being near her was a treat. Yet the summer came, and I did my best to forget.

The next year we were put in different classes, on opposite ends of the school. While I was somewhat disappointed, I had my best friends with me in my class, so it wasn’t that bad. I made a lot of new friends and subconsciously packed all my feelings for her into a little box in the back of my mind.

I changed a lot that year. I learned to play football, got rid of my favourite jacket. I grew my hair longer, finally obscuring the comb-over I had worn for the past dozen years. I discovered the sort of clothes I like to wear, and realized how much fun it was to be social. It was a good year.

But in grade 8 we were in the same class again. However it didn’t matter, because after year 7 I barely remembered her. She even had her locker right next to mine, but I still only talked with her occasionally, as much as I did any other person in the class. It was normal for the greater half of the year.

Then in the second half, my friend Naeem made some joke about my crush on her in grade 6. It was just a passing remark, but it got me thinking. I started paying attention again. I looked at her properly and the box in my mind broke open, and all my feelings flooded out again. Once again I found myself enchanted by her movements. She was still as pretty as ever, and in the time since grade 6 she had…matured as well (and it’s impossible for a teenage guy to not think about that sort of thing once in a while). I started making more conversation with her, and discovered that she was just as enthralling as I remembered. She was funny, deep, and interesting. I took every opportunity to talk to her. I would try to clap the loudest for her class presentations. I even stopped eating anything containing peanuts due to her peanut allergy. I was intrigued by every aspect of her.

I have always been a huge fan of stories. Movies and books especially, but also theatre, poems, songs, and tales. I readily devour any genre of literature, be it science fiction, romance, horror, fantasy, or any other. I wrote a lot of stories as a small child, and am still an avid casual writer. For a long time I have desired to design special effects for big ticket films when I grow up, combining my love of building and design with my equally great love of stories. Fiction offers thousands of dimensions to escape into, each one unique and riveting. So when I found out that Cassidy shared my passion for literature, AND was also an even more enthusiastic writer than I, imagine my excitement.
I started to feel a need to try to make myself more attractive, a daunting task. I experimented quite extensively with my hair, and took up running, biking, and rowing. I have yet to succeed. Somewhere in that time, I accidentally let slip about my renewed fascination to my best friend, who was quite supportive about the whole thing.

Then came the school dance. One huge mass of bodies pushing and shoving in a dark room filled with blasting pop songs. I was determined to get a dance with Cassidy, but to my horror I felt my old avoidance complex acting up whenever I saw her standing there in the darkened gymnasium. I was standing there staring at the floor in shame when it happened.

One of Cassidy’s friends walked up to me and asked if I would like to dance with Cassidy. After that everything’s a bit foggy. I remember going to her, then away in shyness, then my best friend Ryan came in to force me over, then somehow I ended up putting my arms around Cassidy as he walked away.

And as I swayed from side to side with her, I realized something. She wasn’t pretty. She was beautiful. She was the most beautiful person I had ever met, inside and out. Her personality, mind, and body were all so flawless and amazing. Despite the Miley Cyrus song we were dancing to, I felt so happy. Just her being there made me experience everything through a pleasant haze.

For almost a week after that I had a permanent smile plastered on my face. I didn’t know where to go from there, but the happy feeling had yet to wear off.

Then one day my friend Caitlin messaged me on Facebook. She wanted to go on a double date with her boyfriend, me, and Cassidy…so she wanted me to ask Cassidy out.

But I wasn’t allowed to date.

However, Caitlin convinced me. Her reasoning combined with my desire to go on a date with Cassidy changed my opinion fairly quickly, and I tried to think of a way to ask. Due to my proven capacity to become tongue-tied around her, I decided a written message of some sort would be best. Creating a paper rose based off my garden, I wrote the message, and looked for a chance to present it to her. I wanted her to be alone when she got it, since I’d prefer not to have her ever-present group of friends squeeing when I gave it to her, I ended up slipping it into her locker after being repeatedly cock-blocked. And the next day, she leaned over to me, and said:

“Yes”

And so we went to the movies. The double date had turned into a quadruple date rather quickly, with our friends Jonathan, Kolton, Lindsay, and Heather coming along as well. Right from the start I started making a fool of myself, forgetting to buy drinks and having only about $50 in QUARTERS to pay with. I was unusually awkward and clumsy the whole time, walking into things and stumbling. The only part that really went well was sitting down before the movie, when we actually got to talk and have a conversation. Meanwhile, Caitlin and her boyfriend were playing tonsil-hockey and the other couples were cuddling. So, so desperately I wanted to put an arm around Cassidy. I wanted to hug her, and hold her, and never lose her.

But being a coward and a loser, I was far too shy. So I left the theater feeling a bit ashamed, which was further fuelled by the other guys ridiculing me for not hugging her.

Things were confusing after that. I tried several times to ask her to be “in a relationship”, succeeding once and receiving a positive answer. Yet nothing changed after that, for I refused to try anything, even hand-holding, lest I be too forward and ruin everything. And through my fear not to ruin it, I think I did. Who wants a boyfriend who refuses to hold your hand and is too nervous to talk to you? No one would.

All that happened was one more dance. A grade- 8-only dance was planned to celebrate our graduation from middle school, and I managed to ask her to dance myself. She was resplendent in her green dress. I danced every dance with her that afternoon, 3 or 4. Most of them were the pre-teen standard stiff arms dance, but when the last one came along, my friend Kolton walked by. He saw us standing there with stiff arms, strode over, and pushed us together. That was, and still is, the happiest day of my life. At that point, I stopped using the word “like”. Because saying that I “like Cassidy” was no longer adequate. I knew then that I loved her.

Yet I lost her. My failure to interact with her lead to her just dismissing our one “date” and me asking her out, which was fair considering how distant and removed I acted. It was established that we were just friends after that. Summer came and I didn’t see her for two months. My family moved up to a small town in Chilliwack for the summer, and I missed her dearly. I would run 3 kilometers every morning that summer, just to get internet access at the local café, so that I could message her and reply to her responses. I lost a lot of weight due to that.

The next year, I tried to make up for my previous failures. I constantly asked her out, left her flowers, books, more paper roses, and a card on Valentine’s day. It wasn’t ever enough though. Every time she would just respond that she wasn’t allowed to date or go on dates, or that she didn’t feel comfortable answering those questions. Despite the hurt and disappointment I felt, I never lost hope.

Then Caitlin helped me discover the theater. She jokingly told me that Cassidy was an actor in one of the plays, so I (believing her completely) signed up to do technical and backstage work for the drama department. It turned out I was the only one. The previous technical guy, Matthew, returned from university to train me. By the time I found out Cassidy WASN’T actually in the play, I was too heavily invested and trained to quit. Besides of which, I found I really enjoyed the theater. It became my happy place. It was the place I could go when I was feeling down about her, and all thoughts of Cassidy would simply melt away. I escaped into a world of drama.

But Cassidy eventually ended up there too. Deciding to join the stage crew along with some other friends, she signed up for the last production of the year. At first I was very uneasy and awkward having her in the one place I went to escape, but I grew accustomed. I still enjoyed spending time with her, and it was fun. I finally stopped apologizing, and ended the 9th year on a good note.

And now, in year 10, things continued as they were at the end of grade 9. I hung out with her and the rest of our group every day at lunch. I had my hope and I was content. Until one day there was a party.

Our friend Emily was hosting a party at her house. I was in a pretty good mood, having recently obtained a new game I had been looking forward to, getting good marks in class, and going to a party. My mood continued until we started watching a movie.

We all sat down on the couches. I wrestled with one of my friends for the good seat while the movie was set up. As we settled in to watch, I noticed Kolton and Cassidy sitting together on the other couch…and he had his arm around her. I felt my stomach flip. Very, very confused and struggling to make sense of what was happening, I buried my thoughts in a bowl of pretzels. It wasn’t until after the movie was done and the girls had gone to another room that someone told me:

“Kolton and Cassidy are going out now.”

I felt shock. My heart broke and my hope was shattered, ripped bloodily apart and fed to a pack of rabid wolves and bears.
“How” I thought. “How could she do this! Not only is she going out with someone I THOUGHT was my friend, how could she let me find out this way!?!?!?!?!”

As I sat on that couch struggling with my thoughts and trying to appear calm, because guys aren’t allowed to show emotion, I did my best to put on a happy face. I could feel the void. I felt like something had been forcibly ripped out of me. There was a hole where the hope used to be. A huge, gaping, torn hole. I lasted through the rest of the party, ignoring Cassidy and Kolton as much as possible and trying to act normally, but I was dying inside. And as I sat there bottling it up something else filled the hole where the hope was:

Bitter hate. Bitter hate for the one person I had ever, truly, completely loved.

And that stayed there throughout the night. I didn’t get any sleep. That hole kept feeding me hateful, horrible thoughts about Cassidy for the first time. Twelve or thirteen sleepless hours later, the hate petered out, and was replaced by a terrible sadness instead. A terrible sadness I’m still feeling, although not as strong. I confessed all my feelings to Cassidy over Facebook, and her words, as they always do, made me feel a bit better. But the sadness remains.

And I can’t rid myself of it. It’s all consuming, always there. Every train of thought leads to her, and the sadness that lingers in the back of my mind. Perhaps, just maybe, if I pour everything, EVERY last feeling and moment I have with her, onto a page…pour my thoughts into words…it might go away. Writing has always been an escape for me. I hope it works this time.