Happy Valentine’s Week – Day One

Happy Valentine’s Week from the Waterworld Mermaids!!!

Here in our lovely mermaid lagoon, we are all abuzz with the holiday of love. And because we’re in such a happy mood, we wanted to share some stories and memories from mermaid-pasts. Best of all, we’re celebrating all week long! We hope you enjoy!

Today’s stories beckon us back to the past. Super romantic gestures, crushes and kisses aren’t solely reserved for adults. Many spectacular things happen throughout our lives. Here are some examples….

 

Three Wishes
Kerri Carpenter

Whatever happened to big, chivalrous, romantic gestures?

When I was in first grade, my entire class read a story involving three wishes. I don’t remember much about that fictional story but I still love thinking about this real one.

After we read the story about three wishes, we had an assignment. What are three things you wish for? We had to draw a picture and explain it to the class.  Most of us were six years old so there were a lot of drawings of stick figures flying, puppies, candy and cakes, castles, My Little Ponies, Cabbage Patch Dolls and G.I. Joe figures. That sort of typical child-like indulgence.

Then came Jeremy’s turn.

With all the confidence of Cary Grant, this little blond-haired, blue eyed kid with mismatched socks stood up and showed a drawing of a little girl (non stick figure body – damn!) with brown hair and the same color outfit I had on that day.

Jeremy wished for me.

Six year old Kerri was insanely embarrassed. But adult Kerri often thinks about that gesture and smiles….

To R, With Love
Avery Flynn

You remember that girl in high school who had the world’s biggest – and most public – crush on the older boy who was not interested at all? That was me.

We’ll call him R.

R was funny, smart and outgoing – picture a blond Ferris Bueller. He’d glance my way and my heart would speed up, I’d forget my name and the world would lose focus.

I spent hours practicing my signature with his last name. My walk would slow to a mere crawl as I passed R’s locker. We were both drama/speech team geeks and I would sigh and make dreamy faces while he was on stage. (You have no idea how embarrassing this is to write. I am cringing in my seat as I type.) He was the hero in every romance novel I read and every movie I watched. But instead of picking me, he dated my friends. Ouch, right?

That was my entire high school experience. I crushed on that boy for four years. FOUR YEARS!!! Sure, I dated a few other guys but they were a mere distraction. Nothing could beat the pure awesomeness of R.

One night during summer break after I had graduated, we were hanging out with a group of friends. Me still crushing. Him still not. Or so I thought.

I drove home alone that night, parked on the street next to my house and got out of my rescued-from-the-junkyard Chevy Vega. It was closer to 1 in the morning than midnight and the neighborhood was silent.

Then, I heard my name.

R stood in the middle of the street, his blond hair shining in the moonlight. He called my name again and I knew he’d stopped seeing me as that girl who followed him around like an annoying lovesick puppy. Finally, he saw me as something more.

I don’t remember what he said then (damn early onset dementia), but the next moment we were kissing in the middle of the street.

To this day, it is the most romantic moment of my life. (Don’t tell the DH.)

R and I dated that summer, but our actual romance turned out not to be as earth-shatteringly amazing as I’d imagined it would be while dreaming about him. The poor guy had to compete with the perfect boyfriend fantasy that I’d spent four years creating in my head and that wasn’t fair. So while our relationship didn’t last past that summer, a part of me will always love R for that one perfect moment when I felt like the most wanted girl in the world.

 

The Welcoming Kiss
Loni Lynne

Ten schools in twelve years, I was used to this by now.  The moving and changing schools was the easy part, making new friends and fitting in—well, never easy.  This year would be especially difficult.  As a high school senior I was the new face in a class where everyone was already established since elementary.  The school was one of the largest I’d ever been to, having grown up in small farm towns in western Oklahoma the past five years.  But even there I’d school-hopped every other year and never seemed to fit in.

And up until the past couple of years, I had been painfully shy.  It wasn’t until I had to promote the traveling male review show, Male Inc. for the radio station I worked for as a marketing intern, I learned to come out of my shell.  I had talked with the manager, Debra who told me she’d been the shy girl, too–until her boyfriend “Snake” asked her to take on the group as manager of Males, Inc.  After we’d shared some marketing ideas she’d even asked me to look her up after high school if I was interested in helping her out.

Now I sat in English Lit class dressed in a black pencil skirt and my wrap-around blouse waiting for class to start.  Unsure what to expect, I had overdressed for the urban, suburb-town outside of Dallas, Texas; a student even approached me and asked if I was the teacher.  I looked over to my left and saw the curious eyes of one of my classmates.  He had slightly exotic looks, somewhere between Italian and a touch of Spanish.  His dark eyes caught my attention but it was the slight smile of curiosity that held me momentarily until he turned away when one of his friends asked him a question.

Class started. Our first assignment was to introduce ourselves and what are goals were upon graduation. It was tedious listening to well thought out plans of future education.  Being in the last row I listened to everyone’s majors and minors until every university in Texas was burned into my brain.

He was up—Mike Houser.  He was going to Texas A&M to major in engineering while on an ROTC program.  Hmm, not bad.  By the time it was my turn I still didn’t know what I wanted to say. The standstill and uncertainty of my life gave me no insight into next month much less the next two to four years.  So with no definite goals, when it was my time, I tried for humor.

“Hi, my name is Lynne Marks, I’m the new girl.  I don’t intend to go to college right away—instead I’ve been offered a job as an assistant manager for an all-male review show—and I’ll be taking applications for possible dancers next June, after graduation.

When I sat back down, you could have heard a pin drop.   The teacher’s mouth gaped open. Finally, a few shocked gasps could be heard from the more delicate-natured girls in the room and the jocks growled and whistled with catcalls and roars of laughter, asking for their chance at audition.  I wasn’t sure what I’d just done but I made some sort of impact.

When the bell rang I headed back to my locker, still the odd girl out.  No one had introduced themselves or even made reference to me about my comment, though I heard some of the guys talking and laughing about it on their way out the door.

My locker was nearby.  I could bury my head in it for a few minutes before I had to find my way to Art.  What had I been thinking to introduce myself in such a way that would alienate me from everyone immediately?  A gentle tap on my shoulder turned me around.

There was no time to think or even acknowledge who touched me.  Engulfed in arms and the scent of Stetson cologne, warm lips pressed into mine.  It wasn’t my first kiss but it shattered my reality and set my heart to racing.  When we broke apart I stared  into the dark, sparkling eyes of Mike Houser.  His smile was breath-taking.

“Hi.  I’m Mike,” he said softly.  “I hope you don’t mind but I just had to kiss you after the amazing way you introduced yourself.  You’re going to be a breath of fresh air to this school.  Can I walk you to your next class?”

Oh, it was going to be a great year!

 

We hoped you enjoyed our stories today. Come back tomorrow for more sweet stories that are sure to make you feel all gooey (in a good way)!