In fifth grade I was too in love with the New Kids on the Block to notice any real boys.

Joey and Jordan had my heart, my wardrobe, and my bedroom walls. I was up front and center at Dodger Stadium for one of their concerts. I even made a (now I realize monstrously, shamefully, LAME) scrapbook for them that I dropped in one of about twenty trash can sized bins filled with gifts from fans, on my way into the concert.

The bins, which were overflowing with roses, teddy bears, and wrapped presents, were shocking. I hadn’t expected that anyone else would think to bring them a gift. I was sure that the scrapbook I had made full of magazine articles, and newspaper clippings about them, decorated with my artistic touch of stickers, glitter puffy paints, and a few pictures of myself, was going to be my ticket backstage.

After all, it was such a unique and thoughtful idea that I was sure they and their mothers would greatly appreciate. I thought all I had to do was present my brilliant homemade gift to the first security guard I saw, and he would be so touched, he would immediately escort me to their dressing rooms to meet them.

That’s not what happened.

I was jolted in my black lace leggings, NKOTB “Hangin’ Tough” T-shirt, and signature Joey Mcyintyre black hat, to see that I was not the only one, and was instead one of hundreds, with that exact same (terrible)… (ridiculous)… (pathetic) idea.

In the sixth grade I exchanged my love for the New Kids on the Block for a new found appreciation for, and crush on… Vanilla Ice. And, lucky for me there was a boy in my class who everyone was saying looked like Vanilla Ice. So naturally I developed a little crush on him, and magically, he began to express an interest in … Me!

This was it!

This was the first time a boy had ever chosen me!

It was my second year at the school we were attending and his first. We didn’t know each other at all and we hadn’t hardly spoken. But, somehow, word had gotten around from a few of my friends that he liked me. I didn’t know what to do about it so naturally, I didn’t do anything.

It really was enough just to know I was liked. I didn’t need much more. But one night, much to my surprise, I got a phone call. It was him. And it was my first phone call from a boy.

Any boy.

Ever.

I took the call in my room (where was my father?) and blabbed on and on with Ryan Spriggs for a good twenty minutes. We talked about all kinds of things, mostly just getting to know each other.

At the end of the conversation, just as I could tell he was getting ready to say goodbye, he caught me completely off guard and asked,… say it with me now…

“Will you go out with me?”

Now of course that phrase, “Will you go out with me?” didn’t actually mean he wanted to go somewhere together. We were ten. Where were we going to go, and an even better question… how in the world would we get there? Nope, I knew what he meant. He meant that he wanted ME to be his girlfriend. All I could think about was owning the title of “Girlfriend.” And of course I was thinking about telling all the girls at school that I had talked to Ryan Spriggs on the phone and that he asked me out.

My stomach dropped like I had just taken a dive down a roller coaster, my face lit up I’m sure as red as an apple, my temperature went up at least 50 degrees and my cheeks were on fire.

I slowly, boldly, proudly, nervously, said,

“Okay.”

“Cool,” he said. “I gotta go.”

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

To Be Continued…

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