Post #2: Once upon a childhood

There is something about my childhood I can't exactly understand. Every adult I ever met, and I'm not exagerating here, they all promised me one thing. "The girls will go crazy over him when he is 15!" Alrighty then, fair enough. I would like to notify all of those very same adults that I am as a matter of fact not the mega playboy I was proyected to be by now, but rather quite the opposite. I wrote that prediction off quite sometime before I hit 15, but by the time I was in the third grade, it is well worth mentioning that to me that was no longer a simple complement from the grown ups, but rather some sort of profecy, a vision of things to come that had cemented itself into my very being. It grew on me, and eventually I thought that if that wasnt truth, then nothing would be. So I would think to myself before I was even capable of participating in a coherent, well thought out argument, "I might as well start milking this handsome thing now." And so I did, I would approach any girl that had the privilage of capturing my high spirited 9 year old heart with a confidence I seldom see with even the most weathered pick-up artists. Whenever I was turned down, I simply shrugged it off as their missed oportunity, which it trully is. Yet nothing would hurt me more than one girl in specific. I remember her clearly, she was no taller than maybe three and a half feet. Her posture could have been much better and always had a distinct wrinkle in her cheek when she smiled. I though her cute as I also thought many girls in my class. But nothing would ever compare to what I saw in her eyes. In those gorgeous pools of innocence I saw an ingenuity no girl had ever shown, not even the enchanting dames from ine grade up. So I began to go in, with my friends right behind me. I did everything right, I bought chocolates, tried to talk about her favorite things. I even went all out and bought a bracelet for her. At 500 tickets in the arcade, her gift didn't exactly come cheap, but I, for the first tine felt the sting of young romance. Who was I to look at a price tag when I had a diamond of a gal right infront of me. This persisted for 2 years. From the beggining of third grade, to the end of fourth. To me, she was already my promised one, a petite flower that held my ignorance in her beautiful, flawless hands. To stupid me, it came as a shock when she told me to stop trying to talk to her, to reazonable me, it came as a shock I would never talk to her again, and to me now, it comes as a shock she didn't stop talking to me sooner. I dont blame her for who I am today. But her rejection is one I have never experienced before and never planed on risking going through it again. She was the only one I ever wanted, and now, it was too late. By the time I realized I would never see that rose of a girl, I was well beyond the fourth grade. So I cast her memory a drift, left it to the matters of the mind over the heart and continued my life. And true, life was good, yet it was too simple for my own good. Now, I got a second chance. Should I risk going all in, or should I fold with a hand even a blind man would know is a bad play. Well reason be danmed, I suck at poker anyway.