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[vanillafluffy]

Aunt Elsie's youngest son married a woman with two children from a previous marriage, and so He came into my orbit. They were both a couple years older than me; there was a girl, whom I'll call Carly*, and a boy, John. He was 13 to my 10 (somehow I think my countdown has suffered math fail, but let's forge ahead, regardless), and my type. Yes, even then, I had a type: dark hair, Bambi-brown eyes, taller than me.

He liked me, and taught me to kiss---and he was a GOOD kisser. He also played into my imagination; he was into my then-favorite show, Mannix, and we had a fantasy relationship as well as a RL relationship. It was he who planned for us to run away and get married when I was 13---he said there were states where it was legal---and I could hardly wait. At this point, I was still fairly clueless about sex; there was a lot of kissing going on, including horizontal kissing, but at no point did it go any further.

The condensed version: His mom and stepdad had a baby, John and Carly got shipped off to their bio-dad's to live, and that was that. I was heartbroken.

My mother told me it wasn't "real" love...even now, I wonder how she could be so sure. Not that I'm carrying a torch for him or anyone else, but what made her think that it wasn't real? Maybe not rational, or mature---how could it be?---but real? Why the hell not?!

At no point in my childhood did I ever think that my family didn't love me. I was surrounded by people who took good care of me, I had a healthy basis for recognizing love---how dare she say I wasn't capable of real love? What the hell criteria was she basing that on? If she had said something like, "I can tell you have really strong feelings about John" or "You'll always have special memories of this time in your life"---THAT wouldn't have bothered me so much. Yes, it's a very poop-psych approach to the situation (Freudian typos, gotta love 'em!), and would have been completely in-character for my mom. She'd read crap like that, and I'd come along behind her and read it for myself so I'd know when I was being Worked.

Invalidating my feelings like that---look, FUCK LOGIC, Mama Spock. Feelings are what we're talking about, and I'm pretty freaking clear about those particular feelings. I was imprinted on him as totally and as innocently as those animals you read about that think they're another species: duckings and swans, dachshunds and great danes, gerbils and---never mind, the point is, for me, it was completely serious, and my Truth was discounted.

After the Hell that was fourth grade, this school year was a breather or sorts, but indifference to the John!drama didn't encourage me to be open with my folks about what was going on in my life. That, unfortunately, set me up for a Very Bad Time in sixth grade.

You thought fourth grade was as bad as it got? Nah. Sixth grade was as crazy as a sack of assholes.


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* NOT her real name.

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Comments

[gwylliondream.livejournal.com]

Damn! It's amazing how just the semantics of what we say to children has so much power. I remember waking up one morning when I was 6 years old. My grandmother was at my house and I didn't know where my parents were. My grandmother told me they had "gone to the hospital to pick out a new baby."

I just started talking to my sister last year...

I love these snippets!

Have a wonderful weekend!

XO
Donna

[vanillafluffy.livejournal.com]

I was lucky, I know. My brother was an amiable and generous guy, and he used me as an excuse to go see any Disney movie that came along. Mostly the animated stuff, but I saw "Mary Poppins" and "Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang" in theaters, and he wasn't stingy with the popcorn, either.

Hope your weekend is super, too!

[foreverhermit.livejournal.com]

Of course your feelings were real. Was it adult love? No, but that doesn't mean it didn't mean anything. Feelings are valid at ANY age.

[vanillafluffy.livejournal.com]

My mom didn't get the memo, but then, she didn't have the secure childhood I did, eithr..

[cbtreks.livejournal.com]

Do you remember an Ann Landers column where she printed a poem written by a teenage girl? ("Forget his name, forget his face....") She ended the column with the words, "Can teenagers fall in love? Of course they can." I was young - I'm not sure I was a teenager yet - and it impressed me because here was an adult validating young peoples' feelings. Young love, even love that's unlikely to last, is still real love.

[vanillafluffy.livejournal.com]

Our paper carried Dear Abby, so I missed that one. It sounds well-written, though.

Here's some irony: I'm now about the age my mother was when she uttered that particular prognostication, and it still rankles. (And really glad I didn't run off and marry him, but who knows? If I had, one way or another, my life would be diffeent from where it is now!)