Ouch, it hurt, because the opposition kicked me. I was about 5.
In the real love stakes, I was a late starter and always seemed to pick the wrong guy.
My first ‘real thing’ was very one sided though, and it was difficult not to make it all so obvious that my heart was beating on my sleeve, not in my chest, which I might add was, at the tender age of 13, pretty flat.
The object of my crush lived a few roads away and was a senior in the boy’s grammar school. I was in year two of mine and still growing into the new mackintosh and pinafore dress I’d been given as my school uniform.
Mum suggested I invited him for tea one Sunday and I nearly died at the thought of asking him! I knew he’d laugh at me, especially as he was dating a classmate at the time, she of the shape, golden locks, blue eyes, short skirt and legs that went on forever.
Written for Fandango’s Dog Days of August #18