To all the girls I've loved before

If you've read some of my posts you may have come to the conclusion that I might not be right in the head, or at the very least need to see a therapist. I can assure you I do not and I'm fine...just doing my thing in my way eh. The lens I view the world through provides ample opportunity for both commentary and absurdity, the absurdity often related to what I have done. Specifically what I have done because of my....errrrrr, shall we say flirtatiousness and that terrible affliction known as "heart on sleeveits", not to be confused with diverticulitis. You've read about me singing in a choir in grade three...because of a girl....here are a few more stories to have you reaching for an intervention group to call.

As far back as I can remember I have always liked girls. I remember the name of my first crush in grade two, I probably had earlier crushes but I can't remember their names so grade two it is. Tammy Burden was her name, blond hair, blue eyes and a smile as wide as the sky. I never understood how you could not love girls as little boys. They weren't gross, they were awesome...and still are.

As I mentioned, this was grade two and I went to a school called Yorkwoods Gate Public School. Located very near Jane and Finch in Toronto, yes that Jane and Finch, with danger lurking around every corner my parents moved out of there as soon as they could afford to...which of course is what we did every few years. We may have been on the Jane and Finch turf but we seemed to be cordoned off from the gun violence; starting at our school, maybe two kilometres in any way was considered safe and off limits to the drug dealers and turds that made their living off of other peoples misery.

I remember this school as having a dentist on site, all school supplies were provided for...remember the markers you couldn't sniff enough of? Tether ball games and in the winter a hockey rink. There were places to explore, things to climb and fall off of and hockey games everywhere. We lived in a townhouse complex on the outer ring, our small backyard facing other backyards that led into the centre and was an off limits area for me. It was generally understood that you didn't go in there as a young kid, lest you see something you really didn't need to see. So my time was spent out front on a green area in front of our homes before the street. We played football, foot hockey and war. We built snow tunnels and forts in the winter and had water fights in the summer...it was great. And then there was Tammy, who moved into an apartment building down a bit and on the other side of the street. She was in my grade and I still have those hilarious school photos if you want to see her. I probably had a crush on her from the first moment I saw her...captivated by her eyes and big ears popping out from under her long blond hair...ahhhhh, puppy love. As often happens I have no idea how I started hanging out with her but it happened and I was happy as could be about it.

My best friend at the time was a tall Japanese kid named Ken, actually his mom used to baby sit my sister and I. A great family, very warm and funny...I remember calling her "Ken mother" because I couldn't say her name, Okizawa. Ken and I would walk home and Tammy and her friend Dawn would walk with us. Splitting off when we reached our destinations. Sometimes we would find a bench to sit around, delaying our return home for a few minutes, talking about I don't even know what. In the winter was when we really delved into relationship building, by playing king of the mountain on a large snow and ice hill lovingly built by city workers. Boys against girls and let the best team win.....yeah, we pushed the girls off the hill, thankfully not into the street too many times. If hitting is a way of showing you like someone then she really must have loved me as much as I loved her...we were tossing each other off that mini mountain with abandon. I would regularly get in trouble for getting home late because the mountain top was where I was instead of at home with my sister and Ken mother.

In what would become my MO in later life I went for a grand gesture to show Tammy that I was pledging my heart to her. The hill battles were fun and all but I wanted to show her that I liked her for her and not just her goat like climbing ability. How an idea pops into my head one second and comes to fruition in another is beyond me, but in a split second I devised and executed a plan that would certainly show her how much I cared for her. I would sacrifice my place atop the mountain for her...but first I had to dispose of all others. First I pushed Ken from behind right off the top..he landed a few feet away in a heap. Then I turned to Dawn and shoved her off the edge...as she slid to the bottom cursing me and beginning to cry I sensed that maybe this wasn't working as I had anticipated...but once you're in, you're in. As I turned to Tammy, planning to jump off leaving her the queen she was looking at me with mixture of disgust and horror...uh oh. Before I could say anything in way of explanation, she jumped off to attend to her fallen comrade. Leaving me the king of the mountain, high above but with no power. Smack! Ken had good aim with that snowball, right in the face. And sure enough, Dawn and Tammy joined in, pelting me with snowballs as way of forcing my abdication. In retrospect that response was what was needed to salvage the status quo from abject failure, my punishment for trying to claim the whole hill in their eyes....no one suspected my real motives and until right now nobody ever knew why I did what I did.

Grade three and most of grade four I was gaga over the choir girl and than we moved....clear across to the confines of sultry, sexy, utilitarian Etobicoke. Starting at a new school with a few months left of grade four and then into grade five in St. Dorothy's Catholic School was a shock to my system. French? Didn't speak a word of it. Religion classes and saying prayers in the morning along with the national anthem...weird man. And the stupid portable cluster that I had most of my classes in from grade five to grade seven....stupid school. But there was Angela Meisner...almost a twin to Tammy with her long blond hair and blue eyes. We were in the same class the whole of my time at St. Dorothy's and we spoke a little, but I never seemed to be able to find my groove with her...maybe I was to busy dodging switch blades and we didn't walk home the same way. I do remember riding my bike in her neighbourhood, the early glimpses of a stalker I guess, and talking to her when I saw her, but still no in. Until the end of grade five I think.

The glorious last day of school, truly the best day of the year. Water balloon fights, food and MacDonald's orange drink to give you a sugar rush, as if that was needed. Chaos reigned supreme and literally we ran rampant. It was there, in the dying moments of our hopped up water balloon battle that I made connection with Angela. She had worn a pretty dress on the last day of school, probably forced on her by her parents, but it was also a useful shield against the carnage going on around her. She was still dry....and I needed to show her how much I liked her by hitting her somehow. Again, plan formulated I went in for the kill, surely my smashing her in the head with a water balloon would show her how much I cared for her...right? Uh oh...she turned around at the last moment and threw up her hands in defence...."please don't, my dress" she pleaded. Beauty killed the beast...I stopped dead in my tracks, arm at the ready and jaw gaping I am sure. Conundrum time...let loose the projectile and one of two things happen, she falls for me or she hates my living guts for soaking her and her pretty dress. As I debated this dilemma my hesitation caused me to lose focus and thus my edge...I was pummelled by three or four balloons that I didn't see coming from behind and on my flanks. As everyone was having a good laugh, in my sheepish way I turned to her with an ironic grin about to say something poetic and profound, she nailed me in the face with a big yellow balloon...sadly the colour of friendship. Why no red balloon???

Fast forward to grade twelve, Don Bosco Catholic High School. 1100 students, hormones and kilts abound and the church watching over us as best they could. Of course they failed miserably..all manner of rambunctiousness was around...sex drugs and rock n' roll man. Throw in copious amounts of beer and whiskey and you have the makings of the Fast Times at Ridgemount High. I had crushes and mini crushes everywhere and in every year...man it's hard on the head sometimes, actually...still is...sigh. You would think after living through that whole Danny/Connie episode I would just hold back and chill. Rest my mind and heart....but no....

"What is illness to the body of our knight errant? What matter wounds? For each time he falls, he shall rise again. Woe to the wicked.
Sancho, my armor, my sword!"

Yep....I'm pretty dumb. 

Laurie Murray, not to be confused with Laurie Murphy, someone else I was in love with, came to our school part way through grade twelve. And you can probably guess that she had long blonde hair and blue eyes, which by the way, is so not my type now...just saying. She was a year older than I and totally out of my league...I mean, if Brad Pitt was in our school he would be out of her league. Not only beautiful, but smart as a whip. But wait, there was more...something behind those eyes. Not so deep if you looked closely, but right behind those eye lids laid bare was a deep soul and heart in healing. Like every other guy in school, we saw, we admired, we day dreamed and we came back to reality pretty quickly. Except, I did what I usually did...I became friends with her. It seems we shared the same bus to school, so there on the good old TTC her and I would share a few minutes every morning as friends. And if we managed to catch a few minutes, say in the cafeteria, I would get the stares from my friends followed by the 20 questions. For better or worse, we remained friends only in the brief time until she graduated. There was no time for the grand gesture and really no point, as it turns out she was dating a guy named Sam. And guess who got to hear about all their problems on the bus ride in? Yep. Oh well...I'm OK with that role in my life, big ears and big shoulders have served me well in my life and in no small part all those therapy sessions have helped me to be a better parent to my daughters.

Now Laurie Murphy was an entirely different story. Not that anything ended up happening other than friendship, but she was a totally different story. We worked together at the good ole Golden Griddle. My friend Dom was in love with her friend Shawna and I was gaga over Laurie. But while Dom had no illusions of friendship and no real chance with Shawna as it turned out, Laurie and I became great friends. Which made for a great deal of pain watching her date this ass hole named Tim, even her friends disliked Tim and I had a visceral dislike of him. He was poo. While I would go along with Laurie as she tried on prom dresses and we hung around, Tim was busy cultivating his douche bag persona...and all this culminated on a suburban street in wasteland Mississauga. Someone was having a house party and a few of us from work went out there for an adventure. There may have been a drink or 18 consumed and as luck would have it the party became an outdoor event for a little while. I knew Laurie and I would remain strictly friends and that was OK, but it should be known I am pretty protective of my friends. So it should have come as no surprise when I flew into a blind rage at the suggestion that Tim had slapped Laurie in the face. My back was turned and we were a few lawns away when Dom gasped and told us what had just happened in his field of view. I turned to see Laurie holding her face and a look of anger on Tim's shoe face. I snapped. Before I knew what I was doing I was running full force in his direction....not knowing what I was about to do, but most likely using my body as a battering ram. It should be noted that Tim could have kicked my ass any day of the week, I'm not the fighter, I'm the other guy, but I didn't care..hell I didn't even think of that. I just wanted to see his blood outside of his body. Dom, being both pragmatic and sober tackled me from behind before I got too close. And then the other girl that was with us sat on top of both of us as a way of keeping me down. Dom I'm sure would have enjoyed that a little more if I wasn't involved, he had a thing for this girl.

In any event, a momentary lapse of reason was followed by a pause for thought and a couple of hundred pounds on my back...so I wasn't going anywhere. But the verbal assault from the grass was in full force...I think I might have even swore a little, who knew eh? As per usual, the crowd did what the crowd did best...dispersed anger and people. It was over before most people knew what had happened and I was ushered into a car to drive away home....my rant in the car was epic as far as remember. Don't fuck with my friends...

And there you have it, a few tid bits of insanity coupled with the complete lack of fear over looking like a complete fool...without knowing it Epictetus was my sage, my guru, my better angel whispering in my ear. Thank you my friend.