Love (or infatuation) At First Sight

I re-read the last installment earlier today, and, though I'm happy with it overall, I probably wouldn't have focused so much on the medical stuff if I were to go back into it.  I guess I just can't help it.  I over-explain.  Usually, when I edit, I just cut that stuff out.  But with this experiment, my work is raw and unedited.  This is where my mind goes while I'm writing. 

I do like where the story is going, and we're getting closer to the fun stuff.  Hope you're enjoying it.

Love (or infatuation) At First Sight

The moment I saw her, I was in love.  She was a red-haired goddess, and she showed me what real beauty could be.  Beside her, every other girl I had ever seen paled in comparison.  It’s so hard to explain adequately.  Do I remember it with the filter of nostalgia?  Probably.  But even now, when I see her, my breath catches.  

It was just before Christmas break in my junior year of high school.  She walked through the door of the classroom, and my heart skipped a beat.  Like I said, goddess is the only word I know that can describe her.  Tall (like 5’10”), athletic (turns out that she was an all-state volleyball player at her old school), and, well, gorgeous, every eye in the room was glued to her.  Did any of actually hear the teacher introduce her?  I can’t imagine that we did.  Even the girls were in awe.

And that smile.  Most people have this shy tint to their smile when they’re introduced to a group of new people.  It’s natural.  But not Amy – she looked me in the eye.  Me.  The small, feminine boy who everyone else just overlooked…I wilted under her gaze.

After that, every day was an exercise in obsession.  Or maybe infatuation.  I guess it could have been love.  When I tell the story, I say it was, at least.  

As those days melted into weeks, and then weeks became months, I simply watched her.  Back then, I was way too shy to do anything about my crush.  I mean, what could she have seen in me?  I wasn’t that smart.  I definitely wasn’t much of a man.  In fact, it wasn’t uncommon for strangers to mistake me for a girl.  Why would Amy want to talk to me?

But that did not lessen the way I felt.  I dreamt about her.  My every fantasy involved her.  In fact, I was so distracted that I didn’t even notice that my body was changing subtly.

Pseudo-puberty.  That’s what I call it.  The doctor has a long name for it, but…well, I can’t remember it.  Even if I could, I wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.  Long story short, I grew a bit of hair, got a little taller (topping out at 5’4”), and…well, that’s it.  I still didn’t look like a man, but I wasn’t a boy, either.  Somewhere in between, I guess.

But my…you know, didn’t really get much bigger (if at all).  It did, however, start to show my excitement.  You know…I could get hard.  Talking about it is a little embarrassing, I guess.  By that point, I was well aware of how small I really was.  I had seen porn.  I knew that at a little less than two inches (erect), I was woefully inadequate.  

I guess that’s why I chose to focus on my fantasies of Amy.  I could lie in bed, close my eyes, and pretend that it wasn’t so small, that I could be with her like a normal guy.  

Armed with a box of tissues and a locked door, that was my nightly routine.

Even in my fantasies, though, I had a hard time imagining that I’d be the one taking charge.  She was so much bigger than me (who wasn’t?).  I wanted to be a man.  I wanted so badly to bend her over, and … never mind.  I knew even then that it was silly.  How could I ever take charge?  I was a passenger, not a driver.  Still am, though I’m working on it.

But even so, Amy did notice me.  I didn’t know it, but she did.  

There was so much I didn’t know.  Looking back, I know that Amy has been the catalyst for my life.  I would be a completely different person in a completely different place if she hadn’t come along.  And that excites me.  It scares me.  And it saddens me.