When I was a teenager, I had a crush on a girl I didn’t think I could approach.
I know, right? Join the club.
I was an insecure, gangly, 14-year-old, with some blemishes who, for some unknown reason thought it was cool to style my hair with vaseline.
She was well-developed, hot and moved with a fast crowd. It was said she “put out” and dated boys much older. A school thug named Paul, who was a few years older due to failing grades, again for unknown reasons, had befriended me. He had apparently explored her body thoroughly, even letting me smell his fingers a few times.
It took every ounce of nerve I had to ask her to go to the beach with me. This served two purposes - it was daylight, so expectations of any intimacy would be lowered, and I would get to see her in a bikini.
I asked. She accepted, despite the stuttering and large sweat stains forming under my arms.
On Saturday I took the bus to our agreed-upon meeting place and I waited. And waited. Three hours, thinking up reasons why she didn’t show. I was crushed. Beyond crushed. I was devastated. The hurt, the disappointment, the feelings of rejection and insecurity pulverized my self-esteem.
I never found out if it was just a joke, or I was just so insignificant to her that she just forgot. On Monday, back at school I saw her laughing with friends, but never approached her again, and I went back to being invisible to her.
I vowed to never, ever treat anyone like that.
From that day forward I was always excessively considerate of other people, especially women. I was always on time, respectful, clean, honest, trustworthy, reliable and otherwise Boy Scout-like. If I can't be on time, or make a meeting, I always call.
These traits not only became ingrained in my private life, but in business, and later, when seeing SP’s.
To this day, if a date, doesn’t turn up, or an SP fails to respond when I arrive I’m hurt all over again, just like that teenaged boy.
I know, right? Join the club.
I was an insecure, gangly, 14-year-old, with some blemishes who, for some unknown reason thought it was cool to style my hair with vaseline.
She was well-developed, hot and moved with a fast crowd. It was said she “put out” and dated boys much older. A school thug named Paul, who was a few years older due to failing grades, again for unknown reasons, had befriended me. He had apparently explored her body thoroughly, even letting me smell his fingers a few times.
It took every ounce of nerve I had to ask her to go to the beach with me. This served two purposes - it was daylight, so expectations of any intimacy would be lowered, and I would get to see her in a bikini.
I asked. She accepted, despite the stuttering and large sweat stains forming under my arms.
On Saturday I took the bus to our agreed-upon meeting place and I waited. And waited. Three hours, thinking up reasons why she didn’t show. I was crushed. Beyond crushed. I was devastated. The hurt, the disappointment, the feelings of rejection and insecurity pulverized my self-esteem.
I never found out if it was just a joke, or I was just so insignificant to her that she just forgot. On Monday, back at school I saw her laughing with friends, but never approached her again, and I went back to being invisible to her.
I vowed to never, ever treat anyone like that.
From that day forward I was always excessively considerate of other people, especially women. I was always on time, respectful, clean, honest, trustworthy, reliable and otherwise Boy Scout-like. If I can't be on time, or make a meeting, I always call.
These traits not only became ingrained in my private life, but in business, and later, when seeing SP’s.
To this day, if a date, doesn’t turn up, or an SP fails to respond when I arrive I’m hurt all over again, just like that teenaged boy.
