Elementary School Girlfriends – Part 17

I’ve always like girls (and women as I grew up). My first girlfriend was in second and third grade. Her name was Yvette. (Uh-oh, now anyone from Applewood Elementary School can know!) Yvette and I would walk to and from school together. I’d go over to her house and play. You know, running and jumping and laughing and the things you do when you’re 7 or 8 and it’s 1960. Essentially, Yvette was my girlfriend because she was a girl and my friend.

In the fourth or fifth grade I started to notice other girls. There was this one girl, Donna, that particularly caught my attention. I honestly believe she was the first blonde I ever met. Obviously, I’d seen blondes on TV and in the movies, but Donna was the first real blone. And she came from “down South” somewhere and had that accent. It was so cute. Yeah, cute. It wasn’t that Yvette wasn’t cute. She was definitely cute. But Donna was blonde.

Donna was never my girlfriend. Too many boys noticed how cute she was. My friend Dave was even more smitten with her than I was. I mean after all, at least I kept it to myself. Dave talked about Donna WAY TOO much. I stayed quiet. Well, and Yvette was still my friend (and still a girl).

And you know, I wasn’t really too clear about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing. I mean, gee, if you had a friend that was a girl, wasn’t she a girlfriend?

Okay, okay, I did finally catch on. The horomes finally kicked in. I did figure out that there was more to it.

My next girlfriend, my last girlfriend in elementary school, was Connie. Connie was a blonde too. And Connie’s family came from West Virginia, so she had that southern accent as well.

Connie was my friend Bob’s friend and neighbor. Connie and Bob hung out together like Yvette and I hung out. (By this time, I figured out that Yvette wasn’t my girlfirend, she was my friend who was a girl.) So, Connie and I hung out. There wasn’t much boyfriend/girlfriend stuff going on. It was still a lot of laughing and running. Connie was a bit of a tomboy, so she played like one of the boys.

I really liked Connie. I remember holding hands a couple of times. I remember thinking about kissing her. I remember I never did. I couldn’t figure out just how to make that transition. How do you move from playing baseball to “making out”? I was always worried it would freak her out. What if she only wanted a friend that was a boy?

The summer before the eighth grade, that late July and early August, Connie and her family went on vacation to West Virginia. I really missed her. I missed seeing her, being around her. While she was gone, I decided I had to let her know we needed to be more boyfriend/girlfriend from now on. After all, we’d be going to Junior High School.

Connie got home. Bob let me know when she got home. When I came by to see her, it seemed like all she could talk about was this friend of her cousin. I think he had a dirt bike. I remember her talking about riding up and down the hills with him all the time. I remember he was a little older. I remember she had a really good time with him.

And I remember thinking I wasn’t going to have a girlfriend anymore. How could I compete with this guy in West Virginia with a dirt bike? And she kept talking about him.

I was hurt and didn’t know what to do. So, I “broke up” with her. After all, we were going to Junior High in a few weeks. There’d be those other guys she would find. Maybe I’d find a nice girl too. One that didn’t like some guy out of state better than me.

Connie, if you’re reading this, I am sorry I was such a snot. I should have talked to you. I should have told you why I was upset. Now, in the big picture, I’m sure it didn’t matter much. I moved the next summer. You had your high school life and I had mine. If it makes you feel any better, it took me way too long to figure out how to move from “friend who is a girl” to “girlfriend”.

Oh, and by the way, my friend Yvette. Yvette grew up to be REALLY hot, one of the most attractive women I know. She’s somewhere in the Great NorthWest now.

And so it goes…

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