A girl grows up to finally be with her childhood hero.
Enjoy..
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The first time I met Vanessa I was in the 8th grade. It was May and we were all looking forward to summer break and talking about what high school would be like. All we 8th graders were going to the high school for an orientation. When we got there we were broken into 10 groups of 12 and each group of 12 was hosted by a graduating senior.
She was the senior assigned to our group. You would think I would have first noticed how pretty she was, but that wasn’t it. It was how she stood, and how well she spoke. 12 unruly 8th graders all stopped to listen to her when she spoke. She just commanded all our attention. We listened raptly to everything she told us as we toured the school.
We passed other groups. None of them were as involved as we were. We were asking questions almost vying for her attention.
I listened carefully as she explained that she was the senior class president and the role of student government. She worked on the student paper, and TV station. She told us about sports. She played volleyball. She laughed telling us they were not the top of the league or the bottom, but she told us the benefits.
When she asked, none of the girls my group were planning on playing sports. By the time she was done telling us about them I had already chosen to run track the next year.
When the tour was over I was disappointed. I wanted to spend more time with her. She seemed so nice. I wanted to be her friend. As we went to the bus she said good bye and wished us luck for the following year.
Over that summer I thought of her a lot. I thought about all she’d accomplished through school. From that one day, she became a model for me. I did go into student government, also did student news and tv. I also worked in theater. While in school I realized I was happier behind the scenes than on stage.
Once in awhile, around town, I’d see the girl. Not often, but once in awhile. The first time, I almost hid. I was with my mom and pointed her out. Embarrassing the hell out of me my mom said hello and told Vanessa that my name was Jess and about the impression she’d made on me. Vanessa asked me a question or two. I was so star struck I could barely answer. Afterwards, I felt so stupid I knew she’d hate me if she ever saw me again.
A few months later I saw her again. Well she actually saw me first and recognized me.
“Hi Jess,” she said.
She stopped and said hello and asked about my school work. She was impressed with all the things I’d done and her approval made me feel wonderful. She told me where she went to school and that she was a journalism major. I was in heaven. I could not believe she remembered my name ever mind talked to me. I went home babbling all about her and how exciting journalism sounded.
After that, the few times I saw her I asked as many questions as I could. Truthfully I just wanted to hang around her. She’d ask me about my schoolwork, boyfriend(s), sports. She seemed genuinely interested in me. I would ask about her school and once asked about her dating.
She brushed me off laughing, “Who has time to date.”
Every time we spoke I would go home filled with energy and talking about her and what we talked about.
When people would ask me what I wanted to do I was very specific. I wanted to do what she did. The same college and a journalism major, nothing else. As a senior it was the only college I applied to. With my grades and extracurricular activities, I was accepted early admissions.
It was about this time I started to reflect on how pretty she was. In high school she was 5’8 and maybe 105lbs. She was pretty. When I saw her I would notice her clothes. She always looked great. I would try and match her fashion sense. Not creepy like outfit for outfit, but the same styles.
In college she had become gorgeous. Her figure had filled out to what must have been a size 5. She had shoulder length blonde and long legs.
I had a boyfriend most of my senior year. Whenever I would see Vanessa I would tell him about her. I didn’t realize how much I talked about her. He was the first person who used the words ‘Girl Crush’ with me.
It was towards the end of my senior year. I had just turned 18 and was having a small party. I was asking my boyfriend if he thought I could invite Vanessa. He laughed at me.
“You barely know her.” he said. “She’s what, 4 years older than you? Maybe 5? Do you really think she’d want to come party with your friends?”
“I know her. I see her all the time,” I replied.
“Not really,” he answered. “You talk about her all the time. I only remember you seeing her in February. You ran into her at a store. When else did you see her?”
I thought about it. He was right. I saw her 3 months ago for a few minutes. Before that I ran into her at a Starbucks and we chatted for 10 minutes catching up, and another time we said hi on a sidewalk.
“Wow, I guess you’re right,” I said. “I don’t know why I thought it was more.”
“Because you have a huge girl crush on her,” he answered.
I’d never heard the term. I am straight. I was then. I had no sexual interest in girls. I mean, I could look and see one was pretty, but that’s as far as it went.
“I’m not gay,” I responded indignantly.
“I know,” he said. “A girl crush is when a girl has an overwhelming interest in a girl she admires or is attracted to. It’s not really sexual. It’s a desire to be near her.”
I tried to argue. He was being silly. I didn’t have a crush on her. He listened to me argue. Unfortunately, the more I argued, the more I realized he was right. I didn’t have sexual feelings for her, but I did totally want to hang with her.
It became a joke between us. Every time I’d mention her he’d just kind of snidely say ‘girl crush’. It wasn’t mean. He was saying it to be funny. I’d throw a pillow at him or play punch him in the arm and then go on with my story. Since I really didn’t see her that much it was often a recollection of something she and I did or something she told me. Sometimes it was wondering what she would do or say in a specific situation.
To be clear, I wasn’t obsessed with her. It’s just that since this story is about her, I’m talking about her a lot. In reality I had, and still do, lots of interests and things I did but I would quote her a lot, mention how she did things or wonder how she would approach something.
Graduation happened and I did head off to the school she went to. I knew she had graduated but did not have any idea what she was doing. I actually wondered if I’d ever see her again. People often move away after college.
I was a week into my freshman journalism 101 class when she walked in. She walked up to the professor and handed him something. It was a big class, maybe 50-60 of us. She didn’t see me. The professor introduced her as his TA and gave out her office hours. I wrote them down.
I looked at my schedule to see when I was free during her office hours. During most of them I had class but there was one open slot. I made a note to go visit her that day.
I probably could have just dropped in, but I was too nervous and excited to do that. We had a writing assignment so I decided I could ask her to clarify part of the assignment.
On the given day I went to her office. I realized it was actually the professor’s office that she used when he didn’t. As soon as I knocked she recognized me.
We made small talk. She of course didn’t know I went to the school or that I majored in journalism. She was thrilled to find out I was in her class. We chatted about my other classes, and what she was doing. I asked my question which we disposed of in 5 minutes.
At one point she said, “I’m going to get some coffee. Would you like to join me?”
My heart stopped. This woman I admired so much had asked me for coffee. We went to the student union. We chatted all the way.
“Wow,” she said. “You sure turn heads.”
I was confused. “What?” I babbled.
“Really?” she said. “You didn’t notice all those guys checking you out as we walked in?”