For fun I searched The Net for my 4th grade girlfriend. That is to say, she was my 4th grade girlfriend because she was my 3rd grade girlfriend in the 4th grade.
I’ve lost you.
Let me try again.
When I was in the 4th grade I had a girlfriend in the 3rd grade. I wasn’t in the 3rd grade, my girlfriend was the 3rd grader, and she was my girlfriend in the 4th grade.
I was in the 4th grade and had a 3rd grade girlfriend, so she was my girlfriend in the 4th grade, in the 3rd grade.
Got it? 3rd grade girlfriend in the 4th grade.
So anyway I typed her name into The Net and hit enter and crossed my fingers and there she was, her picture staring back at me! Above her beaming smile hung Bitch-Goggles — oversized glamour-puss sunglasses designed to transform cute, normal, nice girls into snobbish tinted bus windshields.
There’s her picture! Look at her smile! Look at those teeth! I remember those teeth! They look exactly the same as when I’d first seen my 3rd grade girlfriend in the 4th grade, in the 2nd grade. She was in the 2nd grade and I was in the 3rd grade when I first saw my 3rd grade girlfriend in the 4th grade.
What a mind-fuck to see a 30 year old version of the first girl to ever crush my spirit. And there was her picture. And there were her words.
I could remember that cheerful blonde 3rd grade girlfriend in the 4th grade playing Chinese Jumprope in her kung fu slippers with her friends. Her feet pecking the hot San Fernando Valley asphalt like drumstick tips on a tight snare.
We once shared an Astropop as we watched some kids play handball. My 4th grade 3rd grade girlfriend and I watched some 3rd and 4th grade kids play handball on the handball court in the 4th grade. Or at least *I* was in the 4th grade. We hadn’t kissed yet, but we’d swapped spit on the Astropop. That was pretty hot.
Soon things got a little dicey. Within a few months of our romance, she started dropping hints, evolved to making suggestions, and culminated with outright requests that I procure for her some manner of golden neckwear. I ain’t talking scarves; I mean actual golden metal.
“I wouldn’t mind having a chain someday. I think that you should buy me a chain someday. Are you gonna get me a chain or do I have to date Jon?”
My 3rd grade girlfriend in the 4th graded wanted 24k! 24k for 3rd G G in the 4th G!
I was panicked! Panicked! If I didn’t buy this 3rd grader a gold chain, she’d find another beau. What pressure! Who poisoned this quick-footed, round-toothed blondie?
This was all becoming a very sophisticated relationship.
How did the 3rd grade girlfriend in the 4th grade expect her 4th grade boyfriend to buy a 1st rate necklace for a 3rd grader? How could I possibly find such capital to fund a jewelry purchase? I had very little equity in my Nash skateboard. I didn’t even know how to multiply! Where could I have gotten a job? I couldn’t complete homework with any regularity, but I should make consistent, timely payments to my jewelry financiers?
And how did she expect me to commute?!
I’d still like to give her a necklace.
Made from a heavy, durable rope.
[c] 2006 Russ of America