Egghead, Godzuki and Crazy Linda...

When I was little I loved playing those doctor and nurse type games with other children. Both girls and boys interested me sexually though I've never perceived myself as either a bisexual or as homosexual. But I wouldn't class myself as totally straight either, so that even though the Facts are that I live- and am in love -with a man, it has very little to do with who and what can turn me on at different times. I guess I could just be a Sexual.

Sometimes I thought that I would just burst with love for those Ones that I've had crushes on over the years. I would do stupid things to try and impress them all the time, anything just to be noticed for a change. The first time was when was about nine and in fourth class. I had to sit next to this kid called Egghead who had a bowl-cut. We had this love hate realationship- and when I say that I mean that we loved to hate each other. Sitting next to each other was totally forced upon us both by our Teacher, who I didn't mind, for the most part. She used to give me her old Member's badges from the Jockey Club that she belonged to, when she got her new one every year, and I was sad to hear that she eventually died from the big C- but I was pretty angry at the time that she made me and Egghead sit next to each other for the entire year.

I was a pretty tall kid for my age so Egghead used to call me Godzilla- or if he really wanted to upset me he would call me Godzuki, who was apparently the baby sister of Godzilla and still had some growing up to do. He used to drive me up the wall by humming or singing the theme song from the cartoon, incessantly, under his breath, as I tried in vain to do my Maths' Mentals. I can still remember the tune.

My withering stares are ignored, as is the not-so-discreet elbowing that follows under the table. It's not our fault that he's left handed and I'm not, but the Teacher won't let us change chairs. I really want to get my Biro licence and he's wrecking my writing. By Easter I reckon I had almost started to get used to our daily bickering. I suppose any attention is better than none. Then I began to look forward to it- and plotted and planned my reactions to the things he would say and do. If he wasn't such a fucking pest he would've almost been alright.

With the end of the school year looming I am starting to worry about what next year will be like without Egghead sitting next to me every day; and when I am at home on my own, listening to my Dolly Parton tape, I rehearse a song that I plan to sing for him after the class Christmas party at the end of the year. For months I secretly sang tearful renditions of I Will Always Love You to the mirror, imagining how I will look as the tears streak down my face as I stand before him saying my fond farewell- our homemade Christmas lunch boxes sagging from the weight of soggy stone-fruit. And then we will jump on our horses and ride off to the Wild West to open a Mustang ranch. That was the plan anyway.

I never sang the song to Egghead, naturally, because by the time December came around I hated him again, but I will always remember the last time that I saw him, quite a few years after fourth class, I might add. He had a broken arm and was on his way into McDonalds.

I suppose the next time that I got close enough to anyone to touch them was in Bush Dancing practice before our Year six farewell. I really wanted that Moove kid I was telling you about earlier to ask me to go but he asked my Kindred Spirit instead. She liked him too so that was okay I suppose, even though I was insanely jealous. The guy who took me dressed up as the Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters, which might have been okay except that it wasn't even fancy dress. I was pretty fucking embarrassed actually, now that I think about it. Obviously he liked being the centre of everybody's attention, but I felt sick all night from being stared at whenever we danced past. I couldn't even sit the dancing out because then it would've been obvious that his ridiculous costume bothered me, because everyone 'knew' we were there together. I don't know why I thought they would've noticed anything that I did at all, but I did. Do.

I think all kids secretly like dancing with members of the opposite sex; I even liked the torture of being 'picked' by someone to dance with because even if I was not the first choice at least I was never the last choice. That honour always went to Crazy Linda. It was really bizarre- her mum was pretty enough, and her dad was someone I'd class as hot if I'd been an adult back then, but Linda herself was as ugly as a hat full of aresholes. I used to tease her about her hair, which was very wiry and black- like pubic hair; I remember her mum coming to school once and a few of us got into trouble for being so mean to her. It didn't make Linda any more popular with US , though. No one likes a dobber.

Looking back now I think I realise that Linda had some major problems at home and I suppose I didn't help her out much by giving her a hard time at school. If there's any consolation prize she always seemed to like me and wanted to be friends with me regardless of how I treated her, though I know that's no excuse. Not that I was really so awful- I was probably more dismissive than anything else- I just couldn't be bothered listening to her constant yap. It was almost as bad as the thought of rubbing my bare feet on worn carpet; but not quite That bad. The last time I spoke to her she was all excited because her mum had just bought her two new pink training bras. And then she ran off. She moved away soon after that- but I don't think even she knew she would be leaving home suddenly in the middle of the night either, so no one knew where she went and nobody cared much- and so everybody forgot about her.

Well- almost everybody did.

Did you know that I hate being given Chinese burns? Well I do. And I don't think that there are really such things as boy germs anymore- that's just something my Father made up, to scare the bejesus out of me probably, because he didn't want to come home one day and find out that his little 'boy' was almost six months pregnant.

But you already know that story.