After what seemed like an uncomfortable hour of silence, I stammered out an incoherent phrase that went something like, “So when you going home?”. That has got to be one of the slickest and most charming phrases ever to pass through these honeyed lips of mine. She, being the more sane one, said something along the lines of, “Well, I was going to walk home in a bit, what about you?”

If my head was screwed on straight, just like a bright and shiny new light-bulb, I would have understood that what she said left the door wide open for a myriad of responses. But being the listless dud that I am, I replied with something much less suave.

“Oh, ok. I’m walking too.”

*long pause*

“Oh, hey, can I walk you home?”

After my beautiful follow-up question, she tilted her head to one side, smiled her sweet smile and agreed. Grabbing our things, we headed out from school. Not much was said as we walked along.

Should I hold her hand? Should I walk closer to her? What should I do? These thoughts clouded my mind as I continued to plod along beside her as I became more uncomfortable with each minute that passed by. The resulting nervous energy that was bottled up inside of me came out in the form of hopping from curb to street and back again. I couldn’t seem to walk next to her.

Screwing up my courage to break this awkward silence, I did what I always did in situations like these. She became the butt of my jokes. I began to poke and prod her verbally. This was what our relationship had grown to be. My “game” hadn’t matured nor had I the experience to understand what to do next.

Pretending to feel hurt and pout, she asked, “Can you just be normal and be nice to me for once?”

“I am very nice. You’re just unlucky whenever you’re around me.”

“Okay, fine. But can you be nice to me right now?”

“Oh, uh okay. Sure. Sorry.”

At that point I was totally dumbfounded. I thought I knew what the boundaries were and how our friendship had been defined up to that point. Is this what all guys had to go through? While I pondered these thoughts silently, I inadvertently wandered farther into the street than I had anticipated. Suddenly, she grabbed my hand and pulls me back toward the curb.

“Hey! What are you trying to do? Get killed?”

Her movement startled me out of my reverie and I mumbled something along the lines of, “Sorry…just lost in thought.” However, I did notice that she didn’t let go of my hand. In fact, she had both of her hands holding onto mine. I looked at her and she had this expression etched across her face. An expression of worry and concern that I knew probably came from my absentmindedness.

As I felt the warmth and weight of her body penetrate mine, I smiled to myself, apologized and readjusted my hand in her hands. She sighed and leaned into me, resting her head against my shoulder and muttered, “Boys…so stupid.”

And I couldn’t agree with her more.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

As they approached, I tried pulling myself together, but I couldn’t get a grip. My mind was racing at Mach speeds and I could feel my body getting hot from nervousness. I prayed that I wouldn’t get so nervous that I would start sweating profusely. That would definitely kill me, not to mention make her run away in absolute horror.

Somehow, I made it through the initial pleasantries and I even managed to crack a few jokes while I waited for the girls to leave. Sensing that something was up, the girls refused to budge. As the conversation slowly ground to a halt, I realized that they would not leave; just so they could see one of their classmates make a total ass out of himself in front of the girl that he liked. Girls, they’re evil I tell you. Evil.

Fortunately, she was much wiser and forceful than I was. She ended up urging and shooing her friends to go home. After she successfully forced the last girl to go, promising that she’d call her as soon as she got home, we found ourselves suddenly very alone. Almost all of our other schoolmates had disappeared from the area.

It was if fate had intervened and was watching with mirth as I fell apart from the inside out.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

She wasn’t my first crush and she wouldn’t be my last. No, by that point in my life I’d had plenty of crushes. Some were short and sweet; the kind where the giddy feeling would pass a mere month down the road. And then there were the crushes that rolled over from school year to school year. Those were the ones that made me lose my sanity.

I wasn’t sure why she was different from the previous ones, but she was. She had long black hair that was always tied up in a topknot ponytail, which exposed her neck and shoulders, especially when the weather was warm. She was thin, fair-skinned and tall for an Asian girl considering our ages, and by my estimate, she had started developing early. She had this shy smile and lilting laugh that sent a jolt right into the very core of my being, melting my heart and the steel surrounding it. Whenever she spoke, I found myself inexplicably drawn to whatever she had to say. And when she stopped, my mind would scramble to find something to say, anything to say, just so I could hear her respond once more.

Yeah, so I was a dork. Give me a break.

I met her about a month into my 7th grade year. I spoke with her from time to time, between classes and during lunch, but I never really paid much attention to her otherwise. Most of my efforts went to teasing her. You see, that was my psychological defense against the unpredictable unknown. And it was my quirky way of showing that I had interest in a girl, but I was simply too cool to care.

Over time, we became more comfortable with each other. I remember going out of my way to walk her to the door of her classroom and I would buy her little snacks whenever she felt hungry. She would respond with her laughter and swan song voice. Every now and again, she’d push, punch or hug me, which always sent shivers down my spine. I wasn’t sure how to interpret the mixed signals, but I simply took them in stride. I’d do anything just to see her smile and hear her laugh. I had completely flipped over a girl.

Looking back, I’m sure that she had figured out that I liked her, since my clumsy flirting was quite obvious, but she didn’t shun me nor did she run away. Score! One day, I decided that I would try something that I had tried before, but had always been unsuccessful.

As soon as the last bell rang, I became a streak of light, running as fast as my legs could carry me so I could be there at her locker when she arrived. As she came strolling down the hall, a cadre of girlfriends happen to be tagging along. My mouth started to go dry and I thought to myself,”Shit! I wasn’t expecting to face 5 girls.” What to do? Should I take off before they could spot me and try this another day? Or should I just gut it out and be a man? While I debated with myself, one of the girls spotted me and called out.

Damn, I guess I couldn’t run anymore.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

I spent my first decade and a half of life in white-suburbia. By the time I finished middle school, the white kids still outnumbered the minority kids 3-to-1. And those numbers were after adding together all the black, brown and yellow kids. Since Asians comprise the smallest slice of the minority pie, you could effectively say that I didn’t have much exposure to Asian people, outside of my family and family friends.

Even though I was surrounded by mostly white folks and had mostly white friends, I always knew that I was primarily attracted to Asian girls. From their dark brunette or raven black hair, to their facial features and coltish legs; I simply knew that those were the girls who would someday make me smile with content or scream out with blind rage. I had nothing against the kaleidoscope of lovely girls that crossed my line of sight from day to day, but Asian girls happen to make me tingle in my no-no place. I love all my women equally, but I simply had a preference.

Early on, I realized that these creatures could potentially make me stammer, stutter and act like a simpleton. Given the right girl, my brain would turn to mush as my mouth would utter nonsensical phrases, while my heart would feel like it was about to jump out of my chest.

And one fateful day during my middle school years, a single girl succeeded.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.