Today, I met him, the boy in the middle of this whole love story.
Back in eight grade of my schooling, I had a huge crush on him.
Actually, when I say huge, it's a complete understatement. I had a gargantuan crush on that guy.
It was like one of those fairytale love stories your grandmother would made up, to convince you to get married.
I believe in that fairytale. I believed in love, and him, just as much.
During my pinky frilly days (minus the pink and frill, realistically, I was a tomboy), I was the goon in school, and a good one at that.
I bullied my schoolmates who picked on nice kids like me. You know the ones, spotty, wearing cheap plastic glasses that covered more than just the eyes, the whole face really.
As cool as we concidered ourselves to be, in reality my friends and I were uncool and shunned by the so called Cooler People.
On the contrary, the teachers loved geeks like me. We had the best grades, the simplest hairstyles, and we were the best-behaved children. But I was also good at sports. Sports were given a lot of importance in our school and sportsmen in my school were like the quarterbacks in Hollywood teen movies. They were the idols. My spectacles never came between me and my star status. Until I fell in love.
If you were to ask me about the whole deal now, I would call it silly.
But then, I never felt silly. It was a serious and dramatic chapter for me in my life.
