In my youth, I had a big crush in 1st grade, in 4th grade bleeding over into the next year, and then nothing until I was 15.
Jane and I had been in the same Ward (a Mormon congregation, please call your friendly neighborhood missionaries for more information about the LDS Church's structure). since about 1984. She was two years younger and I never went to church to pick up chicks anyway - it was for worship, completely separate from home which was completely separate from school. Because i didn't run into a ton of girls, I didn't have a ton of crushes anyway. But in early 1992 I noticed Jane for the first time.
I had a massive crush. I'd see her at mutual (think of it as weekly Mormon youth group - read the Book of Mormon and then call your friendly neighborhood missionaries for further light and knowledge), I'd see her at Church, and the crush got worse as my confusion about exactly what to do got worse as well. I even took exactly one friend to Church with me (I know, bad Mormon, never a good missionary) in all my years growing up, and I took him during that time period so he could see the girl who had my heart and didn't know it.
At our weekly Sacrament meetings (think of it as Mass for Mormons, and see www.lds.org for a map and times for your closest meetings this coming Sunday!), my family sat in a different place every week. Jane's family sat in the same place every week (on the right side of the room about halfway up. I remember right during this time, following my father as he decided on our pew for the day. My heart started pounding as he chose the right side of the room. Each step further up the aisle was like a snare drum beating with my heart. I almost fell over when he chose the pew directly in front of Jane's family. It was a difficult hour.
I told my few Church friends about my crush as well. They would try to force us to talk. And then one day we had Stake Conference (think of it as a week of Church a lot of people try not to attend, like your average week for a Catholic. It's important though. See www.lds.org to become a convert today!). There's no one to take care of little screaming brats during Stake Conference, so I had my youngest brother with me and took him into the Primary room (where children go) to let him wander and play in a confined space while my parents suffered through Stake Conference. Lo and behold, Jane was there with a small child as well. I had my moment and I knew it. I gathered up all the bravery I could muster, made some inconsequential joke or two, and got to talking. By the end of that interaction, I got her permission to talk to her over the phone.
I remember the emotions of our conversations on old-school corded telephones, I remember lying on my mother's bed with just the sunlight streaming in through the blinds while I tried to get this girl to like me more (it was obvious the crush wasn't one-way by this point). I seem to remember her mother and sister tormenting her a bit about being on the phone, and realizing I needed to start making nice with them if I was going to date their daughter (I would go out of my way to say hi to them at Church and make polite conversation). I was going to have an important school dance, and I specifically remember telling Jane that we would need to figure out how to convince our parents to let us go, since I wouldn't really have another shot at going.
I always thought Jane's mother would be a threat to our relationship. I knew my mother would get in the way too - she had a rule against dating poor girls with fat moms, because both would mean my future wife would be doomed to make me poor and grow big and fat. But I always preferred girls from the other side of the railroad tracks, they had their heads on right and didn't stick their noses in the air. One more reason I love my Jane desperately. So with these worries in hand, I proceeded courting Jane the best I knew how. But Jane told me one day out of the blue that it was over. I assumed that meant her mom had forbidden the relationship, but she wouldn't talk about it -- she had made up her mind and that was that.
Now I don't take rejection well, and I don't believe in getting back together with someone you break up with. So I basically never talked to Jane again.
On a seemingly unrelated note, I woke up one morning and my father said, "Bingley, the house has been toilet papered. It must be one of your friends, so go clean it up." I went outside, and some TP ninjas had completely covered my yard, the grass, the bushes and the trees. I slowly cleaned it up and wracked my brain for who could have done it. As recently as July of 2010 I told my ex that my house had only been TP'd once and I never figured out who did it. Jane knows the rest of the story (thank you Paul Harvey!), though, so ask her.
Fast Forward to 2010.
Mid-year, I wonder what happened to that Jane girl from way back when. I don't remember Jane's last name, so how am I supposed to pick her out of 1 million Jane's on Facebook? I had a few other people I knew on there, from back then, and there were no Jane's in their friends lists that I could see. I asked one person -- Caroline, who used to crush on me during that same time period in 1992 -- if she remembered a girl named Jane. Caroline claimed to have no idea.
By late-year, I'm in New York City, I'm out with coworkers at a nice restaurant committing a few little sins, and I get a Facebook message notification in my email. A girl named Jane with a last name I don't recognize, with a bleached-out photo that makes her look Asian and a bird as large as a vulture on her finger, sends me a note, "Are you the boy who used to hate me?"
Now we all have Facebook accounts (go to www.facebook.com and have your precious soul consumed if you have not yet). Every now and then we get spam messages from fake girls with faker notes and fakerer video porn sites. You just delete them and move on, and remember how glad you are not to check your Myspace account any more where these things are really prevalent. Before deleting it though, I decided to test to see if a reply would generate the usual "If you don't remember me, come see me at www.mypornvideo.com" spam. I said something like, "Uhh, I don't think I hate anyone."
Jane quickly confirmed she was the Jane of my childhood. I quickly confirmed I was the Bingley from her childhood. We added each other on Facebook and began catching up on old times in Facebook chat. Jane had an irreverent blog that she used to point out weak people's foibles, and I loved it. We knew quickly we got along great, and I suggested we talk on the phone. I immediately laid out ground rules - no feelings, no talking about that kind of thing, no stalking, no anything. We could be friends and that is it. And friends we fast became. She was online a lot, and I have to be online for work. We would talk during the day for an hour or two and chat online for hours before and after.
Jane was considering coming to Netherfield where I live, on a preplanned trip. I insisted we should get together over lunch, where we could sit outside and people-watch. Or we could go to the gym and work out. There were any number of innocent things we could do. I was excited by the idea.
We talked about the Church. We talked about each other's families. We talked about hopes and dreams and wants. We made fun of other people. We talked about cooking and cleaning and home projects (Jane is far superior with tools). We never talked about our marriages, except to say we had the best spouse on the planet who loved us more than life itself.
From Jane's comments, I didn't think she wanted children, or liked the Church at all let alone wanted to go to the Temple - three things essential for me to consider a romantic partner. It made it perfectly easy to keep her in the "friend" box and never think of her as a romantic possibility (exactly what I needed so I wouldn't be stupid, considering the confines of my marriage and my ongoing struggle with the misery in my relationship). But then Jane's sister, Lydia, set me straight. Lydia pointed out that all was not well at the parsonage near Rosings Park where Jane lived. Lydia also pointed out that Jane had always wanted the same big things I wanted in life, but that her life did not allow for such things and Jane had made horrible accommodations.
I immediately saw Jane as a woman. A woman who had proven in many hours talking and chatting that she was the sweetest, strongest, most faithful, intelligent and amazing woman on God's great Earth. And my heart hit my stomach like a rock as I was overwhelmed with love.
Jane and I had been in the same Ward (a Mormon congregation, please call your friendly neighborhood missionaries for more information about the LDS Church's structure). since about 1984. She was two years younger and I never went to church to pick up chicks anyway - it was for worship, completely separate from home which was completely separate from school. Because i didn't run into a ton of girls, I didn't have a ton of crushes anyway. But in early 1992 I noticed Jane for the first time.
I had a massive crush. I'd see her at mutual (think of it as weekly Mormon youth group - read the Book of Mormon and then call your friendly neighborhood missionaries for further light and knowledge), I'd see her at Church, and the crush got worse as my confusion about exactly what to do got worse as well. I even took exactly one friend to Church with me (I know, bad Mormon, never a good missionary) in all my years growing up, and I took him during that time period so he could see the girl who had my heart and didn't know it.
At our weekly Sacrament meetings (think of it as Mass for Mormons, and see www.lds.org for a map and times for your closest meetings this coming Sunday!), my family sat in a different place every week. Jane's family sat in the same place every week (on the right side of the room about halfway up. I remember right during this time, following my father as he decided on our pew for the day. My heart started pounding as he chose the right side of the room. Each step further up the aisle was like a snare drum beating with my heart. I almost fell over when he chose the pew directly in front of Jane's family. It was a difficult hour.
I told my few Church friends about my crush as well. They would try to force us to talk. And then one day we had Stake Conference (think of it as a week of Church a lot of people try not to attend, like your average week for a Catholic. It's important though. See www.lds.org to become a convert today!). There's no one to take care of little screaming brats during Stake Conference, so I had my youngest brother with me and took him into the Primary room (where children go) to let him wander and play in a confined space while my parents suffered through Stake Conference. Lo and behold, Jane was there with a small child as well. I had my moment and I knew it. I gathered up all the bravery I could muster, made some inconsequential joke or two, and got to talking. By the end of that interaction, I got her permission to talk to her over the phone.
I remember the emotions of our conversations on old-school corded telephones, I remember lying on my mother's bed with just the sunlight streaming in through the blinds while I tried to get this girl to like me more (it was obvious the crush wasn't one-way by this point). I seem to remember her mother and sister tormenting her a bit about being on the phone, and realizing I needed to start making nice with them if I was going to date their daughter (I would go out of my way to say hi to them at Church and make polite conversation). I was going to have an important school dance, and I specifically remember telling Jane that we would need to figure out how to convince our parents to let us go, since I wouldn't really have another shot at going.
I always thought Jane's mother would be a threat to our relationship. I knew my mother would get in the way too - she had a rule against dating poor girls with fat moms, because both would mean my future wife would be doomed to make me poor and grow big and fat. But I always preferred girls from the other side of the railroad tracks, they had their heads on right and didn't stick their noses in the air. One more reason I love my Jane desperately. So with these worries in hand, I proceeded courting Jane the best I knew how. But Jane told me one day out of the blue that it was over. I assumed that meant her mom had forbidden the relationship, but she wouldn't talk about it -- she had made up her mind and that was that.
Now I don't take rejection well, and I don't believe in getting back together with someone you break up with. So I basically never talked to Jane again.
On a seemingly unrelated note, I woke up one morning and my father said, "Bingley, the house has been toilet papered. It must be one of your friends, so go clean it up." I went outside, and some TP ninjas had completely covered my yard, the grass, the bushes and the trees. I slowly cleaned it up and wracked my brain for who could have done it. As recently as July of 2010 I told my ex that my house had only been TP'd once and I never figured out who did it. Jane knows the rest of the story (thank you Paul Harvey!), though, so ask her.
Fast Forward to 2010.
Mid-year, I wonder what happened to that Jane girl from way back when. I don't remember Jane's last name, so how am I supposed to pick her out of 1 million Jane's on Facebook? I had a few other people I knew on there, from back then, and there were no Jane's in their friends lists that I could see. I asked one person -- Caroline, who used to crush on me during that same time period in 1992 -- if she remembered a girl named Jane. Caroline claimed to have no idea.
By late-year, I'm in New York City, I'm out with coworkers at a nice restaurant committing a few little sins, and I get a Facebook message notification in my email. A girl named Jane with a last name I don't recognize, with a bleached-out photo that makes her look Asian and a bird as large as a vulture on her finger, sends me a note, "Are you the boy who used to hate me?"
Now we all have Facebook accounts (go to www.facebook.com and have your precious soul consumed if you have not yet). Every now and then we get spam messages from fake girls with faker notes and fakerer video porn sites. You just delete them and move on, and remember how glad you are not to check your Myspace account any more where these things are really prevalent. Before deleting it though, I decided to test to see if a reply would generate the usual "If you don't remember me, come see me at www.mypornvideo.com" spam. I said something like, "Uhh, I don't think I hate anyone."
Jane quickly confirmed she was the Jane of my childhood. I quickly confirmed I was the Bingley from her childhood. We added each other on Facebook and began catching up on old times in Facebook chat. Jane had an irreverent blog that she used to point out weak people's foibles, and I loved it. We knew quickly we got along great, and I suggested we talk on the phone. I immediately laid out ground rules - no feelings, no talking about that kind of thing, no stalking, no anything. We could be friends and that is it. And friends we fast became. She was online a lot, and I have to be online for work. We would talk during the day for an hour or two and chat online for hours before and after.
Jane was considering coming to Netherfield where I live, on a preplanned trip. I insisted we should get together over lunch, where we could sit outside and people-watch. Or we could go to the gym and work out. There were any number of innocent things we could do. I was excited by the idea.
We talked about the Church. We talked about each other's families. We talked about hopes and dreams and wants. We made fun of other people. We talked about cooking and cleaning and home projects (Jane is far superior with tools). We never talked about our marriages, except to say we had the best spouse on the planet who loved us more than life itself.
From Jane's comments, I didn't think she wanted children, or liked the Church at all let alone wanted to go to the Temple - three things essential for me to consider a romantic partner. It made it perfectly easy to keep her in the "friend" box and never think of her as a romantic possibility (exactly what I needed so I wouldn't be stupid, considering the confines of my marriage and my ongoing struggle with the misery in my relationship). But then Jane's sister, Lydia, set me straight. Lydia pointed out that all was not well at the parsonage near Rosings Park where Jane lived. Lydia also pointed out that Jane had always wanted the same big things I wanted in life, but that her life did not allow for such things and Jane had made horrible accommodations.
I immediately saw Jane as a woman. A woman who had proven in many hours talking and chatting that she was the sweetest, strongest, most faithful, intelligent and amazing woman on God's great Earth. And my heart hit my stomach like a rock as I was overwhelmed with love.
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