Love, Missionaries, and me as a 3rd & 4th grader

I've been thinking for a while that I need to write a personal history - not a broad, sweeping, thematic autobiography, but a compilation of every story I can remember, told as I remember it, without the taint of trying to share a particular moral or sell a particular trait of mine.

This, I suppose will be the first.

I don't know why this story came to mind today while I was studying macroeconomics, but it did, so I'll share it with you.

In third grade, there was a girl in my class with the name of Jasmine. I honestly don't remember why I grew so infatuated with her, but I did. The popular, good-looking kid in my class was named Mike, and I always suspected that they liked each other - in fact, I vividly remember imaging them kissing and my blood boiling at the thought.

I was convinced I was to marry Jasmine. Come 4th grade, I was still convinced. I tried (or so I thought) to win her heart by giving her a necklace I had found, but, as I had provided no words with that gift to explain the intent, she returned the necklace (it was a very long, gold chain - which I later used for a gangster costume... haha) with a confused thanks-but-no-thanks.

Beyond that lack of reciprocation, I had one other large hurdle. She was not of my faith, and in the simplistic mind of a 4th grader, for us to get married, she had to join my church.

So one Sunday I approached our local LDS missionaries and asked them to visit Jasmine's home. The next Sunday they reported back that they had knocked on the door and had been quickly turned away by Jasmine's father, but asked if I knew anyone else they could visit. I quickly said no - I felt awful! I was so abashed that I avoided speaking to any missionaries for several years - I was sure that they all knew of the awful referral I had given.

That's that story. As a follow up, we were in the same English/Social Science core in 6th grade, and then, having moved on (and having lost a significant amount of weight), we were chatting one day and it came up how big of a crush I used to have on her. She laughed and said that she had no idea. In retrospect, I really can't blame her. As far as I can remember, giving her that gold-chain-necklace and sending the missionaries her way were the only outward expressions of my crush during the whole two years I was so infatuated. Otherwise, my feelings simply consumed me while I sat on a half-submerged (humongous) tire in the playground.

Oh, the confused heart of a child.