The Perfect One
When I was 13 my family moved to a new town and I was forcibly wretched out of girls’ school and thrust into the seething hormonal hive that is co-ed high school. Yes…Utterly terrifying.
The new school and its abundance of teenaged boys from ages 13 to 18 meant that I quickly became sure that I like-liked them. As is the common behaviour of the teenager, I fell madly for a boy who was very popular. He had soft dark hair and lovely green eyes. For now I shall call him, The Perfect One. As was always the case with my crushes, he was far too busy soaking up the affections of gorgeous girls with sun-bleached hair and clear soft skin to notice this new spotty, lumpy and dandruffy blonde girl who worshiped him with unwavering devotion.
Total invisibility being the reality of the situation, I turned inwards to imagine what it might be like to have The Perfect One as my adoring boyfriend.
Your dirty foul mind might be beginning to delve into a gutter filled with naughtiness, but let me assure you that all this imagining was, surprisingly, very PG. I was a sheltered child and at 13 I hadn’t quite worked out “the sexuals”. I was really more concerned with holding hands and talking endlessly about hopes and dreams. LAME!
Anyway, back to the PG imagining…
I would sit around in my small bedroom enjoying imaginary conversations with The Perfect One. Literally visualising him next to me and speaking and gesturing to him (without making any actual noise of course; always afraid a parent might hear me). I can’t say that I remember what we spoke about but it must have been thrilling and important because I would stay closed up in my room for hours. Imagining life with The Perfect One was a kind of play; a playing at what it might be like in my ideal version of high school and teenage-hood. It was a playing at being older than I was; being more mature; and being capable of actually speaking to a male human, who wasn’t my dad, without suffering embarrassing verbal vomit or freezing up in a humiliating social permafrost.
In my imaginary world with The Perfect One I was calm, confident, cool, oh so interesting, extremely intelligent and so very very funny. Truly I was not and continue not to be any of these things in real life, except I could be quite funny in Drama class but that was pretty much it. Importantly, a strong memory for me is that during these imagining sessions I didn’t worry or feel stressed. Perhaps this was because they weren’t real conversations so I had no need for worry. However, I also think that during these times I was completely and totally being myself. I wasn’t constantly editing for public social performance; just being myself.
I would continue this habit of imaginary boyfriending into my early 20s; in between the having of actual real boyfriends of course.
I don’t do this particular type of play anymore. Not because I’ve grown out of it, but simply because I have a real partner with whom I can be myself. So I have no need to imagine anymore. Farewell Perfect One and the many others who took your place in my imagination! You were a splendid person in my mind and I hope you are as splendid in reality. Smiley face!
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