Monday, December 20, 2010

Receptionist of Love

Agudath Israel Sunday School, population 30 students, for the most part of my life was the only place I could come across an NJB. I, like the rest of the Jewish girls, nice and bad, fell for the best looking, hunk to ever sing Hatikvah after breakfast every Sunday.

This crush, though, unlike the other thousand plus I have developed over the years, has remained a secret up until this post. Ryan Edwards was the magnificent brother of my best Jewish friend, Erica Edwards. (Hints why I had to keep my burning passion for him under lock in key and my heart.)

Erica and I were inseparable at Sunday school, partly because no one wanted to be friends with us, not even the only other Jewish girl in our grade. It only made sense that our fun together once a week would continue after the school day ended.

Ryan was held late on Sundays that year for Hebrew school, and Erica and I took that time to play doctor at her house with my cousin and her best Jewish friend. (I say best Jewish friend because in the South we all had one. There were separations between the gentile and Jewish friends.)

The same dilemma always reappeared with playing doctor though. Ryan’s bedroom was the barrier between us and the playroom. Obviously someone had to be stationed as receptionist in his room to one: make it seem like a real doctor’s office and two: keep a look out for Ryan since we wouldn’t dare step into his room. Because I, at a young age, already was a disbeliever in the feminist movement, I always volunteered for the stereotypical gender role in order to spend optimal time in his room. (I prefer to look at this as sweet and endearing; rude people would call it creepy.)

All of my stories but this one end in rejection or some sort of failure. If Ryan’s mother shows this to him, I guess that would make that the end of my never-ending childhood crush…or the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Crossing my fingers and wishing on a six-pointed star that this post helps in my search for my NJB.

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