February: Crushes and Loves

In response to my daughter's challenge to answer 7 questions about my history of LOVE, I could not but think back, and back, and back. So here they are. I want to hear YOURS, too.

FIRST CRUSH: For someone whose short term memory is less than 4 seconds, flat, I remember my ancient crush life with amazing thoroughness. Kindergarten: Garth Powelson. 1st and second grade, Ronnie Wilson (cute blond), 3rd to 5th Glenn Bullock (gorgeous guy who finally hugged me at our 35th class reunion), 6th through college- Rick Skousen, (interspersed with Dave Shaw, Dave McKinley, and Doug Hadfield. I wasn’t blind, after all!)

CELEBRITY CRUSH – This has to be Han Solo – not Indiana Jones or other incarnations of Harrison Ford. Also, what heart cannot palpitate at the pure charisma of Sean Connery at ANY age! (well, under 50, anyway). And I will have to admit George Clooney is ridiculously, impossibly, ungovernably handsome and charming. Gregory Peck was no slouch, either, but you youngsters will have to go back and see Roman Holiday or To Kill a Mockingbird to understand that “sexy” assuredly did not begin in the 1990’s. He’ll knock you flat!

THE ONE WHO GOT AWAY: Rick Skousen, again, who became a great and wonderful friend, and whom I probably would have married had he bothered to drop a hint or two while on his mission that he planned to come back and marry me. Sheesh! He swore later that he must have let me know his expectations. But a later reading of our correspondence, done together, made him realized that signatures like “Love in the Gospel” or “Your friend forever, Elder Rick” did not a proposal hint.

FIRST KISS -- Was HORRIBLE, stolen from me at a “necking party” by a pimply boy named Barry. (Don’t ask what I was doing there. 13-year-olds will agree to anything their friends suggest.) I ran out of the room and nearly threw up in the bathroom. Later, I GAVE my first kiss to tall, dark, handsome Doug Hadfield as we walked together down Canyon Rd, both of us age 14. Alas, he lived in Lehi, which was long-distance by phone, and our parents did NOT allow long-distance romantic phone calls. So, sigh…. that crush died of malnourishment. Also, that kiss took place on a Sunday eve when I skipped Sacrament Meeting. My dad saw us, arms around each other, as he drove to church with the family. BOY! Did I get Hail Columbia that night when I got home!

FIRST DATE – Eternally memorable! At age 13 (before Church dating standards) I invited the above Rick Skousen to a formal dance at our Junior High. My mom remodeled an aunt’s brides-maid dress into a floor length formal for me, basting the waistline together to shorten it to my size. As Rick and I climbed the 3 steps into the ballroom, Rick stepped on my hem while I ran up the stairs. RIPPPPP! The dress tore half way off at the waist, dropping to reveal my mother’s safety-pinned girdle beneath. That event put a crimp in my crush for some time, but has been a fruitful topic for endlessly required school papers entitled “My Most Embarrassing Moment.” Rick and I now laugh about it.

FIRST LOVE -- The great love of my life was my first husband, Bill Brooks. DARLING! Curly brown hair, blue twinkly eyes, deep dimples, cleft in his chin, tall and muscular, southern drawl, great sense of humor. My adoration of him outclassed anything I felt before or since. We were married in the Temple after a 9 month courtship. But immediately I learned that great looks and a temple marriage guarantee NOTHING! A recent convert, Bill apostatized when he learned that an addiction he had would not be tolerated by the church. He then tried to pull me out, too. After 5 years and a nervous breakdown for me, we divorced. But my love for him will always blaze in my memory.

FIRST DATE WITH MY HUSBAND – (#2, that is). I would never have dated Jim Davis if he hadn’t asked me on the single most boring day of my life. We met on a BYU Stake Temple trip where I avoided him like cholera. He was skinny as a broomstick and had a mustache that looked like two black caterpillars. After accepting the date I instantly forgot it, and did not remember until he rang the doorbell. “OH NO!” I shouted as I heard his voice asking for me. I threw on my easiest dress over my sweaty body, hardly ran a comb through my hair, and prepared to be as non- charming as possible. Jim took me to his apartment and grilled me a steak dinner (which he burned), and then we went to see a race car movie starring Steve McQueen. I never touched him on that date, and didn’t even try to be more than vaguely pleasant, which intrigued him. He was wonderful to me then, and continued to be sweet, considerate, courteous, and charming for the next 8 dates, which I didn’t want to go on, but didn’t have the guts to turn down. After 3 months he “niced me out” and I realized that whether or not I felt passion for him, I would be a fool not to marry him. (Interestingly, he was already engaged to another girl in Chicago at the time.) I did love him, but I did not grow to be IN love with him until after we married.