I remember the first time I saw her: the most beautiful woman on the planet.
She walked in the room, sure and confident of herself, smiling at those gathered. Her thick brown hair bounced as she walked in a mesmerising rhythm that hypnotised me. Her brown eyes gleamed and had crinkles at the corners, sure signs of a person who laughs often and loves life.
I couldn't take my eyes off her. If I looked away, I would surely cease to exist; I stared and stared as if my life depended on it. But would she notice me? Ego told me of course she would, how couldn't she? But then my ego deflated as she turned her attention to someone else. Who the hell was I to think I would stand a chance? I sighed and slunk off, tail between legs, to the corner. I gulped my drink, trying to drown my sorrows.
Glaring around the room, the thought went through my mind that it was probably for the best. After all, one shouldn't set goals that are impossible to attain, and that goes for meeting women as well. Still, I couldn't help but sulk a little and feel sorry for myself. Ah, love. We are made its bitch all too often in life.
But what was this? She was walking towards me. She was walking towards me! I quickly stood up, and knocked my chair over in the process. Great, I thought to myself. Just the way to make a good first impression. Now she'll laugh and wonder why she wasted her time....
"Oopsy-daisy, let me just help you with that." She picked up my chair. I was mortified. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I wanted to die. Right there, right then, just needed to wait for a big hole to open up and swallow me. Any time now. Hey hole, I'm waiting, hurry up.
She was saying something. I was so busy waiting for the hole to appear that I missed her words. I forced myself to look at her and she repeated herself.
"I'm Miss Cooper, your new 3rd year teacher. What's your name dear?"
"Uh....uh....S-s-steven," I stammered like an idiot.
"Very pleased to meet you Steven. Are you finished with that, love?" She indicated to the empty chocolate milk carton clutched in my sweaty hand. "Let's just throw that away now, alright?"
Had you going, I hope?
I was seven. I had a crush on Miss Cooper that was so intense that I stammered whenever she asked me a question. I still consider her my first love. Years later as an adult I saw her again at a pub, but talked myself out of going over to speak to her. If I had, though, I'd be willing to bet money that I would have stammered.
