Chicken Soup for the Soul // chapter 2

When Mushroom Hair-Cuts Teach You About Love

In pre-school, I fell in love with a boy named Dakota; he had a mushroom haircut and Elmo backpack. I never told him that his eyes reminded me of my favorite Juicy Juice flavor or that I tried to color better when he sat next to me. He went to kindergarten and I stayed in pre-school for another year. Then I moved to Utah and he probably got a haircut. 10 years later, at Pleasant Grove fireworks, my best friend told me that Dakota kissed her behind the swings during recess. 

Over the years, I've come to realize that people come with love patterns. Some girls (like my bff) had boyfriends since the wee age, and then there were people like me who went through life like a social butterfly who never had baby lovers (that sounded more perverted than I wanted it to). I started living through other people and thus my obsession with chick-flicks began. 

You're either born with your love pattern or it's given to you by a Magic 8 ball, I still haven't figured it out.
I have, however, learned why my tender love pattern is so mystical.
My teenage years weren't filled with football players or front-door kisses. I am; however, proud that one less pubescent boy had a story to tell his friends. 

But with all of the things that I thought my teenage years robbed me of, 

I know that one day some MAN (not pimple boy) will sweep me off my feet & whisper sweet-somethings in my ear.

One day, my friends.
One Day.