His name was David.
I sat next to him in primary school.
He wasn't like the other boys, he had an accent, was sarcastic, really funny;
We laughed together all the time, I thought of him at night in bed.
I remember freckles, and a giant smile,
He moved to America, and I missed him terribly,
Thought I was in love.
I was fifteen and he was twenty-nine.
I wrote his name in schoolbooks, spent hours making mixtapes,
Wrote an overblown and sentimental poem
Which I later showed him, covered my eyes
As he read it; he let me down gently,
I was awkward and chubby but probably endearing,
And it's always nice to be adored.
I didn't mind ego-stroking,
I'd tried no other sorts of stroking, back then.
*** wasn't on my agenda, I don't think I even felt a stirring down below.
Was I a late starter?
Let me know.
He was gay. Well and truly gay.
And he practised flirtation on me.
Theatre school was where I found myself, and blossomed,
We indulged in drama together,
And there was lust, finally;
He made my body boil and churn.
Licked my neck as he walked past me to tap practice:
I melted. A friend, dear friend, my **** gay friend.
I wanted, really wanted a man for the first time,
Did he want me, even a little? Or was it all theatricals for him?
I haven't seen him for years, but I found him on Facebook,
Maybe I should ask?
Tom was a philanderer,
Lived with him and two other girls at university;
He got one pregnant, dated the other,
Secretly had **** fun with me.
I'm not proud, I betrayed a friend for my body's demands,
And not for the last time.
But I was insane for that funny little man.
Now I remember unwashed hair and drunken despair,
Now I remember what destroyed me, for a while.
I should have learned my lesson.
She's still a friend; she still doesn't know.
Andy adored me for months
And I was fully aware, found it thrilling,
But didn't feel the same, I was settled.
He was welsh, weathered and wonderful.
He crushed then got over me,
And suddenly I was smitten.
Agonised for two years, then I was over him.
We're still friends, it is possible
To keep them in your lives,
It is possible to move on,
To have something different together,
To be somewhere inbetween lovers and friends.
I reread those last five lines,
And wish I could apply them to the last man on my list.
Feelings came out of the blue, grasped me roughly
And stole me away from my life, from happiness, from calm contentment.
Intimacy of our era;
Messages in the dead of the night,
Stolen kisses, dark despair.
I. Have. Never. Wanted. Anybody. More.
I'm not over him.
But it's just another crush, right?
it's just another crush?
