The day I heard Omar (from same background) would be joining our class was by far the happiest day of my life as a 12 year old. Growing up in an all white town, and being the only one from a different background I was made fun of constantly. For my lunches, weird outfits, not speaking any English and having hairy legs. Apparently at 12 years old everyone was shaving their legs except me.
The day he was to join our E.S.L class was a day filled with excitement. I knew of his arrival a few days before as the teacher had made us make cards that said Welcome, for obvious reasons. Our E.S.L class (except for me) consisted of all asians. While they chatted and laughed with each other in their own language, I stood by watching. I felt green with envy of their friendship and shared closeness. However, I was ready to say goodbye to those emotions and say hello to my new best friend. I imagined we would help each other with homework, share our lunches, and make fun of the bullies in our mother tongue. Then on the weekend we would have sleep overs (not that kind you pervert) and play in the park after school. I had very high hopes for my soon to be best friend. To put it mildly Omar did not meet any of those hopes and expectations what so ever. I put this kindly, as kindly as I can that is: he was an arrogant bastard.
The day I set eyes on him was the day I realized Omar and I would never ever be friends. I could tell right away he would be way too cool for me. He had the good looks only 12 year olds would appreciate and an air about him that said ‘back off, you’re not good enough to be my friend ”. And so our hate-hate relationship began. While on my first day of class no one had put up their hands for me to sit beside them, for Omar every hand went up. Even the students whom already had someone sitting beside them. Instead of having recess buddies, Omar had recess followers. Every girl wanted to be next to him and every boy wanted to be his best friend. While people made up names for me (they couldn’t pronounce it), they went out of their way to say his name exactly right. The only time I ever had any sort of connection with Omar was during our E.S.L classes. Since I was further off in English, I spent a lot of time translating. All the effort I made to become his friend were lost on him and so I made sure to spite him every chance I got. Every time he asked for help I would make sure I added the word stupid or idiot at the end and beginning of every sentence. “oh and what does the idiot need help with this time?” or “how can I help you stupid?” He never ever told on me. Because he had just as good, if not better insults to hurl right back at me, which hurt my ego even more. To make matters worst he went to the same high school as well. Neither of us really had a choice actually. We had to go to the only high school that had E.S.L classes.
So forward to high school where I saw less and less of him. Eventually he did not exist for me and I think it was the same for him. Sometimes once in a blue moon he would sit beside me and taunt me. “I hear you’re still a virgin.” he would snicker. Or “how is my little virgin doing today? God your parents must be proud!” Sometimes he would say it loudly enough to have every head turned my way. It was at moments like these that I wanted to slap his face and take that smirk off his pretty face. While some teenagers (I) were going through puberty and looking like shit this bastard was getting better looking by day. It was with utter relief that we went to different colleges.
You’re probably wondering why I am writing about a silly 12 year old boy crush I had? SIGH! Did I just admit to a boy crush? So yes maybe the annoyance with Omar had something to do with a one sided crush. Let me just tell you this. I saw that bastard exactly 6 months ago today at a friends wedding. Apparently the world is in fact a very small place. It’s a good thing that it’s small when you do look fabulous. Which BTW I did. And him? Well not so much. I guess the partying and social smoking had taken a toll on his boyish good looks. But thats another story for another time. I wanted to give you an insight into this douche bag before I told you what happened at the wedding.