I hope we can all agree that crushes are the definition of emotional roller coaster. Maybe you agree with me that you want your crush to change for you and you fantasize about you and them. You fantasize what "it" could be- but "it's" not. I met a boy in school (he'll be A) who changed my perspective of things. Not going to lie- he was a good guy. He was so handsome, so smart, funny, and above all, my imaginary soulmate. When I first met him, I never thought I would have such a huge crush on him. I didn't know that he was going to play such a massive role in my future and the way I thought of things. I didn't know that I might fall for him, and that he would be the wrong guy... But now I do. It all started when he asked me for a chance at a relationship. I remember vividly all the emotions I felt, ranging from happy to bewildered. On top of that, it was midnight, and I wasn't myself. I was too crazy. So me, being the intelligent but dumb girl I am, said maybe. I said maybe because (of my smart side) I knew he was a player. However, I always contradicted myself every time I brought this fact up to myself. Not necessarily, I would think. He had a girlfriend for a long time, I would think. That was my dumb side. And that's exactly why I said maybe; I didn't really know what would happen if I said yes or no. I can't describe in words how much regret I felt afterwards for not saying yes. He was the first real crush I had! He literally asked me for a chance! How could I! But I did. And now, all I feel is pride and a little more intelligence. After that day, we talked on and off. We talked some days, at school or online; other days we didn't speak a word to each other. By the time winter break came around, I was basically over him. He was dating someone- a "hoe", to say the least- and I didn't care the least bit. They broke up after two weeks. A couple months passed. And then, I met a guy who was so nice, so caring, but so not for me at all. I met him at a party I went to (he'll be C). A day or two after, I decided to talk to him, because what's the harm? He was so nice. He knew exactly how to make a girl's day. But he didn't go to my school, and he was severely depressed. I didn't know how to help him. I even think I could've made it worse because, well... It led to the point where he was constantly talking to me. He wouldn't leave me alone because he barely had any friends at his school and I was his "light" everyday. He admitted he had very deep feelings for me one day and asked me out. I didn't feel the same way, and I absolutely had no idea how to turn him down without hurting him. At the same time he asked me, I was talking to A. No one else was awake, and I really needed help in rejecting C without stabbing him with the invisible knife. I was so hopeless. So I asked A to help. I explained the entire situation to him, from top to bottom. He asked me for my number, and at first, I was confused. But then, he called me. We talked until my dad came in my room and told me to sleep. A and I made up a solution that I would tell C that someone was planning to ask me out the next day, and I was going to say yes. A was the one who proposed an idea similar to it, and I was the one who made it cleaner. I feel like it got awkward at that moment, but I don't remember. I think we both just fell silent on the phone for a few seconds. I could hear his sniffs loud and clear. I successfully rejected C. That was the beginning of me and A's close friendship. Many, many things happened after this point of time. I could go on forever and ever about the strong bond but complicated feelings we had, but I'm just going to state the main point of all that. He was a player. I think I had some influence on him, but I'm not sure. He wasn't as much of a player when we were close, but he became a big one (and did other things on top of that) after our friendship shut down. My feelings for him constantly got in the way of everything I did and every word I spoke to my friends, because I would talk about him so much. The entire time, I knew he wasn't worth it. He didn't deserve the tears I shed for him or the happiness I felt only with him. Or at least, that's what everyone says. But me? I learned. I know now what the whole experience of a real crush feels like. No matter how complicated the whole thing was, I would never take it back. No matter how much "hoe-ing around" he did, I wouldn't change the way I felt about him. Above all, I would never take back our friendship or the things he taught me. Yes, he was a player. Heck yeah, it took me a lot of time to get over him. But to anyone who might be going through the same thing or dealing with a player- you will learn. I promise. But don't ever think that you will change him/her. You will only change yourself in the end. This may be a bad or good change, but it is a change for you and not him/her.

Growing up, I never understood having a crush. There was that one kindergarten romance, but honestly, he was my friend that just so happened to be a boy. Therefore, “boyfriend”. We haven't seen each other since the first grade and now I'm off to college. After thinking back about his more feminine habits: Playing with barbies, makeup, being envious of my longer hair, and paying more attention to the other boys in a much more “friendly” manner. Well, I'm sure you get the picture now, but he was not going to be into me. I worried more about it in middle school because all my friends had crushes of some sort and even a boyfriend in some cases, not that middle school boyfriends really count anyway. I just felt as if I was missing out on something. So whenever anybody would ask, “Who do you like?” in their squeaky and insistent voices; That was my cue to say, “No one”. Which I had constantly repeated for years and years until my second year of high school. After realizing two things: High school is not like the movies and I might end up forever alone, I was not hype for that first day. I was exhausted because I was in denial about needing to sleep the night before. So when my art teacher was calling the class names for attendance and I scanned the room to match names to a face, something really threw me off. A particular accent. It sounded beautiful. Just the way the voice flowed coming out of this stranger's mouth was so soothing and refreshing. I found his face and I remember seeing him walk into the classroom before roll call and I recall misjudging him as a basic, all-American, white, male student, that I was bound to forget. Yet somehow, I was enthralled by just his voice. A tall young man with black hair, an attractive stubble, fair skin, a basic hoodie, and warm brown eyes. All of that and this hunk was sitting alone. This crazy feeling came and it was completely foreign to me. Butterflies in my stomach, rising temperature, uncontrollable smiling, and constant tensing of the body. I didn't want it, so I ignored it and I tried to ignore him too. A couple days had passed and considering the person I was, I lacked interests in talking to anyone in my art class and the rest of my classes. Though ignoring this one guy proved to be challenging, not because I was trying to talk to him, but because no one was. It bothered me for some reason and even more when I would glance at him during lunch and saw him alone. Right before the bell rang to release us from lunch, he made his way in front of me, just towering above me with his back turned. I had to talk to him and I urged myself to say “I like your backpack.” I stuttered out a bit loudly to reach him over the crowd of loud teens. If you didn't guess already, flirting wasn't my forte. Phenomenally though, he actually looked at me and smiled too, a charming flash of teeth. He thanked me for the compliment and I do believe he did say more, but I could barely hear him and understand his accent at the time. Frankly, his smile just consumed me and that was the only thing on my mind. So I just nodded and smiled like a doofus. That next day in art was different, I was allowed to enter his bubble now and sit next to him in class and then during lunch. It was euphoric. It turns out he was a charming nerd with a knack for 90s card games, specific video games, anime, and mathematics. We got along relatively quickly, but everything changed when the fire nation attacked. Just kidding, it changed when more people wanted to talk to him and he realized he did have more in common with other people besides me. Likely more in common with others than me. Naturally, I got jealous, so I chose to isolate myself and he did come looking, but it didn't last long. Probably because it was annoying and tiring to find me. I do remember he opened up to me more and I listened and I loved knowing things about him because I found him to be so interesting. He was the book that fed my mind and my brain was always hungry for his stories. While learning about him, I learned about his sexuality. Interestingly, when your first crush says he turned out to be bisexual, it makes you get a little tenser. Yet I still rooted for him and his love life. In hopes that if he would date someone that wasn't me, I could move on. Eventually, we both moved on. His types for partners ended up actually being strictly men because he's gay. After I confessed that I liked him in a romantic way, he came out. You would think I was heartbroken, but I was celebrating. Actually, I did cry a little, only a little though. It was liberating to confess and even though I got rejected, it wasn't because I'm not the prettiest, smartest, or best girl. It's because I'm a girl and my person of interest was incapable of seeing a woman in a romantic way. Or at least that's what I told myself so I could get over him. I can say that everything has turned out fine since then because now we both have boyfriends.

“Mofe Joshua” I mentioned to him, little pride minced with doubt could have been detected in my tone at that moment, “I might be the one” I thought to myself. “Sixty Percent” Mr Rojo called back at me. Not an excellent score, in fact a low point at that but remarkable because I was indeed the one, I had scored the highest mark in the English test. Earlier, Mr Rojo had reprimanded the class for its poor performance in the test. Myriad of lower grades have been mentioned to every other students who asked to know his or her score, until now probably every other person had hoped they were the exceptional student who scored sixty in the test. Sadly enough, their hopes has been shattered because after sixty, the next best score the teacher reported was twenty six over hundred. And so throughout the rest of the class I positioned myself to face Mr Rojo as though I am indeed a serious student, but mind you, I was absent-minded, trapped away in my own world of imaginations. I contemplated a situation where Lawal was around, sitting directly behind me “Meh! I really do miss her” if I turned my head to look in her direction with a smirked face, I bet she would anticipate my move by smacking my head, ask why I'm too full of myself and tell me not to make a fuss of the issue because it is not big deal. Even now, in reality, I can feel Rhoda's eyes on me, staring in envious delight. She had held my head in marvel once as though trying to weigh the contents of my brain when I answered a question no one else could do justice in Economics class. ”You guys are playful, very playful” Mr Rojo reiterated, “most of you can go on ranting in Yoruba[ Yoruba; the indigenous language of the south-western people in Nigeria.] like you are quoting bible verses. Especially this boy, Emmanuel! Where is he?” He shouted pointing at him with mean eyes. “Sir!” Emmanuel responded and everybody laughed. “You scored fifteen percent” Mr Rojo retorted and everybody laughed again. The rest of the period went on as Mr Rojo retreated to giving the right answers to the test questions, making comments about stupid answers He came across while marking our papers. At the end of the class, He left for science class, the class next to ours “Class of Efikos”[ Class of Efikos; Efikos denotes the set of brightest students.]. And there He continued with the second edition of the issue He started in our class, art class. Funnily enough, I remained the only top scorer even in their league. Meanwhile, in our class, we had a free period so everybody joked around, Emmanuel taking the lead role, imitating the gestures of furious Mr Rojo. Some mates praised me, whined about what a bookworm I am and some other passed abrasive comments about how scoring the highest mark in a test is not such a big deal, I just faked calmness and joined in the merriment of the free period, joking around with my close pals, Shodiya and Ayodeji. We all heard a loud cry from science class when Mr Rojo was done with his period, I wasn't much alarmed since I knew the reason for the cry. It was quite pathetic how poorly we did. When colleagues from science class came to our class, they wanted to know who had scored the highest mark, the point of emphasis for the poor overall performance and when they were told I was the one, more praises came. The mind blowing part of the story was when Oyindamola found me and commended me with some gesture I can't quite remember but it did seem like a hug, I thought it was very playful of her, little did I know I was soon to be swooned by her ravishing beauty.