Searching for Mr. Rochester

In the Beginning

I would like to say that after my Kindergarten sleepover I quickly out grew my shyness and became the outgoing, adventure seeking, risk taking, attention go-getter, that my older sister had always been. But alas, I did not. And not only did my shyness continue, it became a debilitating illness that haunted me for the majority of my childhood. The days and nights leading up to the first day of school were spent with spiraling thoughts of fear that I would be laughed at, looked at, or worse completely left out. The desire to be invisible permeated my existence so much so, that I mastered my own invisibility. If I was invisible then nobody would be able to see the scared little girl with the big frizzy hair.

Oh that's right, after the hair loss incident, it was as if my scalp had decided with impressive force, to hold onto every hair that existed, and then multiply that hair times ten. So what was once a mangy pile of scraps, now flourished into some sort of out of control drag queen diva do. It would have been a true thing of beauty if I had been built for it. But I was a tiny stick of a figure, with a long thin face, and a big fat wide nose. I was a gangly mess with a Jersey girl afro.

My hair got so thick, and so unruly, it drove my grandmother insane. Instead of wasting precious time brushing it, she would grab ahold the top of the pile, scissors cocked and ready in her other hand (her wooden spoon hand), and then she would unceremoniously hack through the underneath portion across the back against my scalp. I had a perpetual bump like back do all the way through 3rd grade.

However despite my encumbering shyness and hair disability, I still managed to grab some male attention in the those early awkward years. First of all I was smart. Usually one of the smartest in my class, I quickly became known as an apt note taker, listener, writer, and all around good student. I was often the teacher's pet, but not because I sought it out with attention seeking kiss buttery, but rather because I was quiet in my achievements and genuinely loved learning. I quickly realized that doing well in school meant praise and encouragement from an adult, something that I was completely lacking in my home life. The better I did the more positive attention I received, my teachers becoming surrogate parents for many years to come.

I was also very sweet and unassuming, and despite my meager physical appearance, I was quite athletic. I was especially quick on the track which made me a sought after relay anchor, and a must have on a Capture the Flag team. Of course it was never the most popular boys that liked me, but it was often the more interesting ones. The ones that, if I had known better, would have garnered their attention wholeheartedly, because after all they would grow up to be very successful, kind, and overall decent human beings. But of course at the time I just thought they were losers like me.

I always had my eyes and heart set on the unattainable boys. The ones with the big smiles, deep dimples, and mischievous eyes. The ones that played hard on the field and goofed off in the classroom. They were fun and dashing and always surrounded by the prettiest girls. And they had absolutely zero interest in a plain Jane girl like me. They were also dumb as fuck. Back in the day if you were cute you didn't have to work for anything to get what you wanted. Many of these adorable and charming boys grew up spoiled and eventually turned into narcissistic men with little regard or respect for women. Basically the same men I was attracted to in my 20's.

In 5th grade I did succumb to one "will you go steady with me" proposal from a boy that walked the line between the geek squad and the cool kids. He was extremely easy to be with as he did most of the talking. He was a bit of a clown with jet black spiked hair and a face full of equally black freckles. Most likely an early undiagnosed ADHD kid, that learned to adapt without handfuls of medication and special treatment, and turned out just fine. We ended up at the same college, and I think are Facebook friends, but he was definitely not my first love.

It wasn't until I graduated 6th grade and moved to a fancy liberal arts school that I met my first love, Ben. Ben will show up several times in this story. But I will warn you, do not fall in love with Ben. Do not be lured into thinking that Ben is ultimately my Mr. Rochester, or that I will have thrown out the idea of finding my Mr. Rochester because I will have realized that Ben is the one. I do not want to ruin the ending, but I also do not want you to be disappointed when you discover, despite my endearing, nostalgic and all around adoring depiction of Ben, that he simply is not the happy ending to this story. There were even some times over the years that I got disappointed at this thought, because it really would have made such a great ending, by ending up with my childhood sweetheart. But yeah no. Not gonna happen. Like me you will learn to accept this and when you finally meet my Mr. Rochester you will understand.