My first crush was when I was in grade 5 or 6. Andrew was his name. We used to spit at each other when we played downball at recess. Ahh, young love.
He was (and still is) a cutie. He was never a total bastard either. Sure, he did go through that phase, but he was always nice to me. I always had a soft spot for him. Even when I was over the crush and well and in my late teens. Even now I still think of him fondly. And every time I do, I can't help but think of a certain scenario.
I used to sit down the back of the classroom, second seat from the back on the far left. Andrew used to sit directly behind me, and my mate Jackie and his mate Paul. Anyhoo, we were doing some class and I was bored. Shitless. And I was cutting the ends off my fringe. My long fringe. I don't remember exactly what happened, but Andrew was egging me on and pretty soon, my long fringe was up around my forehead. But only on the left side. I had trimmed the right side too, piece by piece, and it stuck around my ears somewhere.
I didn't get found out until the end of class when the teacher came round to collect our books. The floor was covered in hair. Frantically she demanded to know where it all came from, and my deskmates dumped me in the shit. After being told off (I was such a ditz and didn't realise at the time) I promised to tell my mother that night.
I did. I don't recall my mother really worrying about it. But she did trim my fringe. Straight across the middle of my forehead*. I hated it. Absolutely HATED it. I have never had a fringe since.
*I have wavy hair and the result is that the fringe then sits up higher than it really is.