Oh dear Christ, did I ever have a crush on you, and it was about as mutual as the respect between a volcano and the tiny village situated at its foot. It was my freshman year at UT, 13th grade so to speak. I was friends with your two brothers, neither of whom you resembled much at all, lucky you. The first time I saw you was this one weekend when you came to visit them. I happened to be sitting in your brother Eric's room when you walked in, and the crush fuse just overloaded and tripped, thereby shutting down all the power to my brain.
Eventually, I was able to actually open my mouth and speak, but talking to you just served to make me like you more. You ended up digging on my buddy Mike, which, ya know, sucked. I felt just like Adrock when he saw that girl he liked jocking Mike D to his dismay. Dismay, that just sounds like such a weak way to describe it, but I guess Adrock needed to make a rhyme.
Obviously, both Adrock and I figured out how to bounce back, but for my part, I had to get a little emo with it first. I must say, you were never once cruel about it, and you very easily could have been. I remember this one particular moment that occurred after I had pretty much given up. I had a tee-shirt for that crappy band that we were all into. What the hell were they called? The Last Wish? What a ridiculous fucking name for a band, it makes me seriously dislike them in retrospect. Anyway, I gave the shirt to you on a random whim for no real reason at all, and the sincerity of your gratitude was overwhelming. Painful almost. When I saw you wearing it for the first time, I tried to act nonchalant, but I was secretly thrilled. I wonder if you still have it.