My middle school relationship with Kyle Casey

I admit to having a crush on the lanky and uncoordinated Kyle Casey beginning in sixth grade. (When this “crush” ended I will never know because there was no interaction between us, and whether or not I liked him as we both developed over the next two years cannot be for certain. I always assumed he was indeed the hilarious and clumsy boy I first encountered, heard good stories about, and therefore continued to like, but I personally did not really know Kyle for two years.) Our relationship began with a planned meeting in the atrium of the middle school during which “I like you,” and “I like you too,” was exchanged. Arms were folded nervously behind our backs, heads tilted downwards, and jerky glances scanning the surroundings were made to 1) make sure nobody was watching and 2) to avoid any kind of eye contact with each other. Once those words were spoken it would be a couple of months until we spoke again. We would hesitantly unite at school dances in which somebody would locate Kyle and I and push us towards each other, forcing us to interact. I would uneasily place my palms on his shoulders and his fingers would find my waist. Standing as far apart as possible, our conversation would go something like,
“Are you having fun?”
“Yeah, are you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good.”
And then we would both look away and observe everybody else who was having similar conversations. I would make eye contact with a couple of friends dancing close by, giggle, look the other way and then my gaze would find my swaying feet.
Dating in sixth grade is like eating too much candy. It’s all very good in the beginning, you get a little rush, and then you crash and avoid candy for a while. You have brief encounters during which neither one of the pair speaks to the other kind of like a hit and run car accident during which you accidentally collide, panic when you consider the damage done, and go off pretending it never happened. You exchange glances, turn and walk away at a fast pace. Every time you catch your crush looking at you, you make sure that they know you are interesting and liked by loudly participating in the conversation you’re having or consistently laughing aloud.
The only way Kyle and I kept in touch was through Instant Messenger during which we would build up the confidence to have legitimate conversations and brush the surface of really knowing each other. In fact, the only thing I really knew was that his birthday was October 29th, the day after mine. When either of us would go on vacation we would bring back meaningless junk such as the printed shark t-shirt I bought for him in Mexico, or the ceramic mask he brought back for me from Italy. What’s funny to me is that I have kept these things and can’t seem to give them up. The mask hangs on my wall and a once frequently worn necklace sits in my jewelry box, worn once in the past five years and only as a joke. The truth of the matter is, Kyle and I spoke more yesterday than we did in sixth and seventh grade combined.
Kyle and I never broke the awkward obstacle of avoidance while dating and I crudely ended the affiliation with a very forgiving email. How do you break that barrier and simply get over the embarrassment of “like liking” somebody?
Kyle and I reminisce about our “dating” experience and the fact that we were, clearly, in a very serious relationship. Looking through old yearbooks I come across hardly legible scrawls reading, “I hope you have a great summer. We should hang out, call me.” His number would be given knowing I would never call, and scribbled somewhere tucked in the corner of a page would be, Kyle ‘heart’ Lee, written by some stupid boy trying to embarrass me (most likely Mark or Craig). I would see his sentimental message and think, “clearly I’m not going to just pick up the phone one day and call you Kyle. Seriously what would our conversation entail? ‘Hey Kyle, this is Lee, you know, the girl you are dating. I’ve never really spoken to you much less called your phone…’”(you see how this would be unproductive and pointless)…He would probably pick up, giggle and ask something stupid like if I had gone swimming yet that summer and I would say, “Yea” and think, “Are you kidding? It’s freaking summer, the only reason I wouldn’t have gone swimming yet would be if I didn’t know how or if some stupid child had a bladder problem for the entirety of the summer and absolutely had to go to the pool.” So I concluded that we might as well have not talked.