Not My NJB, Not Your NMB

Starting that night, Richard and I spoke on AIM on a constant basis. Sometimes it was for a short time, sometimes it was for a long time. Every conversation each night left me smiling and excited for the next conversation we would have.

Most girls would never admit to keeping the conversations, but I most definitely saved them and shared them. As any other normal girl would, I needed to get my friends’ input on what we said. I would either share them through AIM with Carrie and Mary or I would bring them to Carrie’s third period in the library for her to read, and we would discuss.

I enjoyed every moment that involved him, whether it was talking to him, talking about him or thinking about him. All of this was until one of my friends asked him if he liked me.

When Carrie relayed the negative response telling me that I was simply thought of as a friend, I attempted to smile on the phone and pretend to not care. But upon snapping my phone shut, I had the loudest most vocal cry I had ever experienced.

As I repeated over and over to my mother, “Why doesn’t he like me?” it all occurred to me. It was because he, like Casey, had a James and the Giant Peach size crush on Mary. This brought me no comfort, only more tears. I replayed the conversations we had and how many involved Mary. He, like Casey, was using my friendship to get closer to Mary.

It took me awhile to be okay with this again and to be okay with the fact that maybe the two could work out instead end short of a first date like she and Casey did.

Not a long time after, the two went on a date to Green Papaya for dinner, and I cried then too. For prom that year, Richard was her date. By that April, my adoration for him had subsided, and I was excited for the two to possibly date…they never did.

Richard started dating some other girl. He asked me why I didn’t seem happy for him. That’s when I quoted the best phrase to ever leave my pink lips, “I am happy that you are happy.” (No way in the world was I actually happy for him.)

While this may seem like some sob story, Richard was not my NJB, nor was he Mary’s NMB (Nice Methodist Boy). This is what I know: without this massive failure of a crush, I wouldn’t still be on my search, and my grandmother won’t have to sit Shiva because I am with a non-member of the tribe. So I didn’t learn anything, but I escaped exile from my family I guess…