I worshiped my older sister, almost to a fault. I'd sneak into her room after school and open her little white drawer with the gold bar handle that had all of her Glam Rock God cassette tapes and decide which one I was going to steal that day.
Somehow I would always go for Skid Row - even though I had absolutely NO idea what "18 and Life, you got it ... 18 and Life you knooooow oww woooh" meant ... it did not keep me from blasting it in my teeny tiny ear drums while doing my homework.
Back to where it all began ....
Where what all began, you're probably wondering? Well I'll tell you. This is where my love for the eastern boys and all that is dark, salty, and complicated began.
People who know me - already know what the hell I'm talking about - but for the sake of general public let me humor you.
I like Asian guys ( ooooooh big deal ) [insert rolling of eyes here]
"So the #$@% what?" you might be thinking to yourself, right?
But let me illuminate the grandiose picture here that was and currently is still my issue with this plaguing disorder.
Spinning back to my original story - Sixth Grade Environmental Camp Circa 1991 (I was 12). Up at Lake Cachuma, about 55mi north of my insignificant beach town where I grew up; Asian population 6. This is where the floodgates of my own strange desires began.
Being in the sixth grade and having your older, cooler, Van Halen loving sister as your chaperon/counselor made the week in the weeds at environmental camp seem well worth getting my freshly tri-color laced L.A. Gears dirty for.
I remember our little lincoln log cabin well. Jail like bunk beds seeming only to be able to hold the weight of our little feather pillows, let alone a ritz cracker filled brat.
Normally my obsessive need to be the center of attention would make me to wait to see where most girls would gravitate toward (bunk bed wise), and somehow finagle a reason to switch with whomever seemed the tightest of friends. You see, in my oh-so-socially-overdeveloped little mind, this would force them to potentially go through me to tell each secret or tid-bit from earlier that day - or so I thought? But not this time, I was focused on Sis and where she would tell me (as she did most times) to put my things.
After bunks were chosen we were rushed out to the fiberglass from hell picnic benches so the rules could be laid out. The camp instructors started hurling "Don't go here" "Don't touch this" "Mess hall over here" type instructions whilst most kids heard charlie browns teacher squakings "Waaah wah wah waaaaah wooh waah"
I couldn't pay any attention to what was being spit through the tiny powder blue megaphone ... there were boys all around ... boys boys boys! My stringy platinum blonde hairs were tangling just thinking about them.
Growing up in the smallest beach town ever this side of Socal - I pretty much knew all the boys in my 6th grade class. Mainly because these were the same snot nose idiots who had gone through K-6 with me. However, a ray of hope flashed over me after realizing … intermingled with our school was a private school from up the road. Not only were there 20 new kids mixed in with us ... but they had a little Asian boy! I don't think I had ever seen one up close before to be quite honest. I was mesmerized and completely intrigued, I couldn't stop staring (he probably thought I was nuts ... and I guess I kinda am?)
We all had those annoying paper nametags on - to which I might ad I always wanted to write my own name on, and imagined all sorts of fun names to put on there IE: Barbie, Bionca, or even Abednego... but alas our teachers already pre-wrote them. It was then that I saw the little boy's name tag said something strange?
"Gary" it said ....
I wondered to myself .... Gary? Wait a minute here.
Being that one of my all time favorite childhood story's was "Ricki Tiki Tembo" I was very very disappointed! Regardless, I still couldn't stop staring? I watched what group he went with, which hikes he chose, I was virtually stalking this poor kid just to catch a glimpse of the unknown. Gary had Bieber like blue black hair, thick glasses, knobby little knees, and those tall soccer socks with the three stripes up top. He looked like he was ready to try out for the children’s olymipics.
Around the time we were heading back to our lincoln log I could hear some of the girls snickering back and forth.
"Did you see how Sage picked me for his group?"
"Isn't Chris so cute, I wish he was in my class you're lucky"
I wanted to interject on how well Gary's socks complimented his Nike ensemble ... but I thought I better keep quiet. I was smart, I didn't want anyone else turning their dirty little glitter chipped polished paws toward him. I know – I was obsessed.
My sister led us back into the lincoln log and let us know we needed to get ready to go to bed. She promised to let us tell a scary story if we hurried. I don't think I've ever seen a group of girls get ready for bed so quick in all my life; which was strange to me I hated scary stories? I spent the better portion of my childhood begging my sister to sleep in my room or leave a light on in the hallway so I wouldn't be in the dark. But these nutty pre-teens were volunteering, rushing even, to be scared? Go fig?
So before the stories started my sister went around the room asking which boys we thought were cute. Mandy started off with "I like Chris" then Mary agreed, followed up with Cynthia saying "Jason has that cute blonde curly surfer hair" ... I was last and I didn't want to be left out so I was thinking what titillated compliment I could dig up for little Gary. Little did I know the whole thing was a planned scheme so my sneaky sis could find out who my secret crush was. She had no care in the slightest about who those other twits liked, she was waiting for my answer... and boy was it a doozey!
"I think Gary is cute, I like his smart glasses" I blurted out - then silence
My sister looked at me puzzled, "Who's Gaa . . . " she paused "Oh you mean that little Asian boy?" "Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatttttttttttttt?", she screamed.
Then came the pouring hysteria of what can only be described as a cross between spitting and shirking slightly resembling laughter. Followed up w/ all the other girls joining in, until the banter was so loud the lights from the neighboring lincoln log cabin turned on.
I interpreted her laughter as an explicit sign that this was obviously not a good choice. So, within a split 12yr old second I was able to blurt out "Oooh Just KIDDING! ... Got Ya!" "oh you silly girls thought I liked Gary" "Oooh Pppaaah shawww!" and then I made up this utterly ricockulous story about how I liked Eli. I liked Eli, and I knew when he helped me make my peanut butter sandwich on the trail that he was the one for me. Apparently I had no PB spreading skills because I was tearing my bread and making Eli a nervous wreck.
I kept up the charade for a matter of literal years - it wasn't until much much later that I figured out I had mistaken my sister's laughter of shock and surprise for disapproval.
This however, never stopped my secret affinity for Asian boys - I just learned to hide it well.
