Some girls just naturally know how to be girlfriends, I guess. They seem to attract boys without even trying, and they can talk to them and be friends with them without even thinking about it. Other girls have to consciously win boys over. They plan and flirt and do little things to get boys attention, then work hard to keep the boys interested. Then there are the girls like me. Boys scare them.
I had no idea how to have a boyfriend. By third grade I knew boys were out there. I knew some boys liked some girls in our class, and I listened to those girls talk about their "boyfriends", but I had no idea how to get one for myself, nor did I want one. It scarred me silly to think about having to carry on a conversation with a boy. What would I say?
I still remember a few of the boys in my childhood that stood out from the others. I don't remember that these boys had girlfriends, in fact, they may not have, but they were the popular ones. There was David Jones, he had red hair and was tall and cute. I remember Rusty something-or-other, although I can't see his face anymore. I'll never forget his name, though. It was really Russell, and that was my last name. It used to make me cross that he would want to go by Rusty. I had the biggest crush on Paul Ellsworth, he was sooooo cute, and in my ward at church, too. He was nice.
Anyway, I was not one of the popular girls, I was just a shadow in the back of the room. I was too tall. I had to stand on the back row every time we got our class pictures taken or whenever we put on programs, and I usually towered over most of the boys as well as the girls. I never said much in class, and died whenever I was put in a group with boys to do projects. I couldn't talk to them, it was hard enough thinking of things to say to girls. I envied the popular girls, especially the ones with boyfriends, but I never wanted to be one.
So you can imagine my surprise on the last day of third grade when a boy in my class caught me just before I walked out the door. He wanted to say goodbye for the summer, and he gave me a present. Me! I had no idea what to say. I don't remember ever talking to him before, I don't think I ever particularly even noticed him before that day, and I sure didn't know what to say to him at that moment. I guess I just stammered "Thank you," and got out of there. My friends wanted to know what had happened, but I couldn't explain it. Together we opened the little box he had given me. Inside was some sort of Indian trinket, perhaps an ornament to hang on a necklace. My friends were delirious. "That's turquoise," one friend exclaimed, really impressed. "Why did he give it to you?"
I couldn't figure it out. They were sure he really liked me, but I kind of figured he was a kid like me, who would have liked to have had a girlfriend so he could be like the other cool guys, but he didn't know any cool girls so he chose me because he knew I didn't have anybody else so I wouldn't turn him down.
I was embarrassed. First of all because I hadn't known what to say to the boy and I was afraid I'd hurt his feelings by not talking to him longer. Second, because all the girls had made such a fuss over me and I hated the attention. And third, because I really wasn't interested in having a boyfriend. I didn't even enjoy having girlfriends come over to my house, it was so hard to think of things to talk to them about, and what if this boy wanted to be my friend next year?
I took that trinket and put it in my drawer in my bedroom. Then I worried about it for a whole day or two, but pretty soon summer took over and I forgot all about the present, the boy, and school. All I cared about was swimming and going up to the cabin, both of which I got to do that summer. Mom had decided I would benefit from taking swimming lessons, so every morning for a month she drove me across town and I learned to hold a board, put my face in the water, and kick my way across the pool, turning my head to the side so I could breath once in a while. I got pretty good at it, too. By the time school started again I had forgotten the boy. He wasn't in my fourth grade room, perhaps he had even moved away from our school, because I don't remember ever seeing him again. I can't even remember what his name was. But whoever you are, and wherever you ended up, thank you for trying to be my friend. I'm sorry I didn't make it easier on you, but you were sure nice to me, and I appreciate that.
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