Seems like just yesterday

I am going to tell you a little story about my first boyfriend. This
was way back in the day when I lived amidst the corn fields, tractors,
and livestock. Where children roamed the country roads barefoot and
where your grandparents walked uphill both ways to school. Stanley and
I both had one thing in common, we were the least white of all the
people in all of the school and probably the town too, except maybe
for the Mexican migrant workers. Well I guess that was until this
little Japanese girl named Yumi moved to town, but I made sure to
become bestest friends with her right away, thus forming the Rainbow
Coalition as my step-father fondly labeled us (but that is another
story for another time).

Stanley's mother is white and his father is black, my mother is white
and my father is something that is not white. Stanley liked to wear
crew necked sweaters with oxford shirts buttoned to the neck
underneath and he always had the newest Reebok's. I liked to dress
like a seven-year old Madonna with crimped hair and neon colored
tights. Stanley and I cheated on spelling tests together and wrote
stories about our future together and also our pet unicorn, which I
hope was my idea and not his. We climbed trees and played FBI agent
and drug trafficker, we rode bikes and I kicked his ass at tether ball
after school every day. Looking back, this was probably the most
successful relationship I ever had.

We played house and I would kiss him on the forehead before he left
for "work" with my dad's old briefcase. Stanley was very cool and he
introduced me to the musical stylings of MC Hammer and other early
90's hip-hop. Everything was blissful and our future in the third
grade looked very promising. School let out for the summer and he
slowly stopped calling me. My mom says that we used to talk on the
phone for hours and I have to wonder what in the world seven year olds
could talk about for that long. When school resumed in the fall it
became immediately apparent that Stanley had become cool and I had
become uncool. He met older kids over the summer who told him girls
had cooties and that tether ball and unicorns were for sissies. He
stopped wearing the cute little outfits his mom picked out and he
started writing obscene messages on his shiny white Reebok's. He
didn't even invite me to his birthday party. I was heart broken. But
then I moved away and rumor has it, Stanley told his friends it was
because he broke up with me.

So Stanley, if you are out there, no you didn't ruin my life and force
me to leave the state. I am still very bitter towards you and I hope
that girls still tell you that you have cooties.