One tenet I've tried to work to during my time in blogland, both in terms of writing in my own blogs, and commenting on others, is 'if you've got nothing to say, say nothing'. That's why I didn't post yesterday - there really wasn't anything much to say. Today hasn't been much more eventful, in all honesty - I did receive an unexpected phone call from work this morning, telling me not to bother going in tomorrow, because there's nothing for me to do, which means I won't need to travel now until tomorrow afternoon, effectively giving me a buckshee day off - and I've spent a little while, prior to starting this post, staring at a blank screen. I could have done what I did yesterday, and not bother to try, but I feel the urge to write something, so I'll meander and see where I end up.
I've been reading a blog lately, having seen a link to it on a blog I follow, called 'Born this Way', which I'm sure many are familiar with. It invites LGBT people to send in pictures of themselves as children, and to tell their stories illustrating the innate roots of their orientation. It's made me think about my own situation, and how far back my own predilections go. I wrote some months ago about the first boy I can remember being attracted to, when I was 12, even if at that time I didn't fully understand what that attraction meant, but my musing about the 'born this way' adage, has led me to earlier memories, and memories of one boy in particular. When I was around 8 or 9, my best friend was a considerably younger boy, just 5 or 6, called Jonathan. There was no sexual component to the relationship, not least because I was a total innocent at that age - sex just wasn't mentioned in my home - but, in hindsight, there was a distinct emotional tie involved. I remember one incident in particular, when having been invited to what must have been Jonathan's sixth birthday party, held one afternoon after school, I thought I'd missed my lift to his house, and had a dreadful, tearful meltdown outside school, far more intense than could reasonably be explained, even for a 9 year old, by the simple disappointment of not going to a party. Was I in love with him, in my childish way? It's certainly possible, and it's definitely fair to say that I didn't ever feel that way about a girl until I was in my late teens. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but it does make me wonder how much of what makes me what I am is down to nature, and how much to nurture. I guess the truth lies at some intermediate point, as with most things.
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
I have memories of getting quite strong emotional attachments to certain boys from when I was six and seven years old. I only knew that I loved looking at those kids and wanted to be their friend more than anything. I was a shy boy and didn't find it too easy to make approaches to anyone I looked up to in such a way.
ReplyDeleteAs an adult having begun to understand what we commonly mean by the term 'fall in love' I would say it's pretty obvious that I all but did that - even with Robin who was pretty much 'Head Boy' (11) at that time.
I suppose the term most adults use to describe childish attractions is 'a crush'. Did I have a crush on tall, stylish loveable Robin? In the end you can call it what you will - it won't alter how strongly I felt about him.
Hello Micky
ReplyDeleteAs you say, adults (even your grown-up self about your younger self) can belittle the feelings of children, with words like 'crush', but I certainly think the way I felt about Jonathan was well on the way to 'love' - apart from the birthday party incident, I was heartbroken when he moved away (his dad was a prison chaplain, and they moved with his job). My history of unrequited love for boys is an extensive one, it seems!
Love & best wishes
Sammy B