My first, and only crush, was when I was nineteen. I knew the second we were introduced that he was the man for me.
I invited him to my school’s alumni prom. I loved every second of being with him. I’d see him at church dances, and he always took me out afterwards and saw me home. BUT HE NEVER ASKED ME OUT ON A REAL DATE.
The rest of this story is so unreal that if you read it in a book, you’d say the writer couldn’t really think you’d believe it. BELIEVE IT!
About a year after we’d met I was reading the paper one evening when my picture jumped out at me. I was stunned. How did that get here? But wait, I thought, “Those aren’t my clothes. What’s happening here?”
It was his brand-new fiance’s picture. We were exact images of each other.
Shortly after that I ran into both of them on a crowded bus. I turned and found myself staring at myself. I pretended I hadn’t noticed anything unusual and turned away.
It took me a year to get over that crush. Was it worth it?
Hell, no!
That’s an amazing story. Thanks for telling it.