April 11, 2006

Nostalgika VIII: Stirrings of Prepubescent Desire

I was so in love with Martin S-C when I was in elementary school. I have mentioned this here before, in my Black Book post and in one of my Meditations. He played the lead in The Mikado, so as far as I was concerned, he was a superstar.

Looking back on the way I felt about him, I see patterns that still exist in my adult life. His effeminate fragility attracted me, as did his delicate bone structure. I find that I am attracted to either really ridiculously
manly men, or else men who are really in touch with their womanly side. Martin didn't play rough like other boys. Martin played the viola and read big, fat books.

I pined. I pined, while he was ignorant of my existence. I fantasized that I would be hospitalized and he would sit at my bedside and hold my hand (I also fantasized that I had a dollhouse filled with real, tiny, Borrower-sized people. I would pick up the boy, pull down his pants, and insert a safety pin into the little hole at the tip of his penis. I knew that, despite the pleasant tugging sensation these thoughts gave me behind my navel, I should not tell anyone ... because they were very bad thoughts. This fantasy may have more bearing on the current state of my love life than my love for MSC, come to think of it). I still find any relationship in which I am not in a state of desperate angst to be emotionally unsatisfying. Also, he had a British accent. I like accents, as long as they aren't Russian (sorry, Boris). Since puberty, the ear of my desire has become more attuned to words being whispered and shouted in Spanish; but in 3rd grade, Love spoke British.

The other day, I found two newspaper clippings from the Martin days. See? I was a stalker even then. What a gold mine! Here they are:

Martin was in the newspaper for taking a class in which he learned to conduct the orchestra. Third-grade SG thinks: I can't believe I am in love with somebody famous! This pattern continues to the present day, of course, but you always remember your first brush with fame. Well ... I wished I could have brushed Martin ... instead, he waved his arms with passion and focus while I sat on the sidelines, eating funny little acrid-tasting pellets that I found on the carpet during Story Time.

This was a great day for me. In grade 4, I was in the same class as Martin again (a 5th grader! With upper-lip fuzz!). We won (!!) a bookmark-making contest and were featured in the newspaper. Even though I traced my picture of Winnie the Pooh, my bookmark got the blue ribbon (that's me on the left; check the hair. circa 1977). Martin got 2nd place. See us all showing each other our bookmarks with pride! I am posing for the camera, but my heart is pounding as this photo is being taken, and my eyes are full of his ivory, translucent skin and his pursed little lips. His well-appointed trousers and his tidily turned collar. In my mind, the two of us are standing together on the Olympic podium, our arms around each other as we listen to the National Anthem. I am so mad that Jenny and Aleta, with their sub-par bookmarks, separate us.

I'm fairly certain that, despite our shared fame, Martin S-C still does not know who I am. Or ... maybe ... he has just blocked me out, because the heartache of our unrequited love is too painful to bear! I am pretty sure that's how it is. Not that he never looked my way, with all my funny voices and my straight-armed, short-panted gait. And the fact that I told him that David Cassidy was my brother. And that I was half-Chinese (because I thought that would be cool, as though all-Estonian wasn't good enough. I look half Chinese, don't I?) No, I am pretty sure that once he realized I was simply out of his league, he nursed his heart back to health and tried to find a way to move on. I sure wish I could.


Sleep Goblin said...

So, firstly, I LOVED the Borrowers. I still have the book somewhere. And there was a cartoon, but it wasn't called the Borrowers. Maybe the Littles or something. I don't remember.

Second, my first crush.. oh how I pined. And then he went away, to another school. And I loved him everyday, until he came back. And in 5th grade, he wasn't so cool as he had be in 2nd. *le sigh*

Juliabohemian said...

Why don't you look him up and give him a call. And while you're at it, see a therapist about that safety pin thing.

BadGod said...

I never had a 'crush' on anyone in school. I don't think I've ever had a 'crush'.

You have some issues w/ the safety pin thing. Oh my.

Weary Hag said...

You poor baby.
My fifth grade heart-throb was a lad named (are you ready?) G. Martin. Do you hear the twilight zone music?
Gregory wouldn't give me the time of day even though all the boys wondered if I was stuffing TP into my bra or not. I finally resorted to the unthinkable and mailed a love letter to his house ... which his mother read ... TO his father ... who ended up hand delivering it back to MY house to make me the laughing stock of the fam.

I loved this post; not in the same way we loved our Martins though. You have such a wonderful way with words. You're quite expressive ... but you knew that, didn't you?

Still, 'tis nice to be told sometimes.

Here's a girly hug for never landing your little man.

jamwall said...

i recall a girl in 5th grade who somehow peed on my desk at school. this was inexplicable how she pulled that off because her pants were dry.

i was in love from that very moment.

aughra said...

Oh my, this was such a great read. Thank you so much for sharing this.... especially the bit about the Borrowers. That fantasy is just so hidden and true, I could feel the urge to straighted out a safety pin myself.


And you are a beautiful half-chinese second grader!!

Unknown said...

Effeminate nerds everywhere rejoice in your love and then, thinking of the safety pin, shudder and crawl back into their basements to play dress up in Mommy's clothes.

dizzy von damn! said...

in fifth grade i was tortured by my love for the older brother of a boy in my grade.

and matthew was so cute and i loved him so, and years later he liked me but my heart had turned to stone.

Tumbleweed said...

I know...I will write a note that says "Do you like Spinning Girl? Yes or No", then I will fold it in a little triangle and give it to him. Maybe he will read your blog and come sweep you off your feet. OR maybe he is gay now? hhhmm

marriedman said...

So, wait. David Cassidy is half Chinese?

That's totally hot and shit.

Anonymous said...

"Wow" is all I have to say. I find myself more and more reading blogs just because I am bored rather than actually being interested in what one is saying.

I haven't read anything that good in quite a while. Intelligent, honest, funny and a little disturbing (safety pin?). Great post!

I'm a fan for life.

jiggs said...

delicate bone structure eh? effiminate fragility, eh? in touch with feelings, eh?

Really what I'm getting out of this post is that you're in love with me.

However. This whole safety pin in the wang thing is a little worrisome.

babyjewels said...

I never thought to stick a safety pin up anyone's penis. Now I won't be able to stop thinking about it.

DaMasta said...

I can't even remember what happened last week.. but you? You remember e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g.

I used to day dream that I could make time stand still and that I could go over to my boy-crushes and sexually molest the hell out of them without anyone knowing.

And then time would start up again.

That made me smile.

mgc said...

young lust is such nice memories. who has not had a martin or mary or carol or...

Lelu said...

Conductors are so hawt. I was in band, and I always had crushes on the band directors and marching leaders.