Mugshot of the Day

I know everyone can't wait for the mugshot of the day, and believe me it's hard to keep my own pants on. (That was all sarcasm, as I know most of my audience could care less about any posts on former beaus and crushes who are now convicts). It's still fun for me, and I think of my blog as a keepsake for my golden years (if I make it that far) to give me a chuckle or two if I'm feeling a little down.

I think I need to explain the history of the next convict and his connection to the backcountry. Around the time we made it to fifth grade, most kids had found their clique and if they didn't, well they were left to the outsiders. We had the pretty girls, who claimed they'd been to third base, and as luck would have it, they were the most popular. Being an outsider, geek and S.O.A.R. student, boys never looked at me or my short haircut. This didn't mean that I didn't like them. I just couldn't find one in the entire school that caught my fifth grade eye...until he came.
He was blonde, tall, handsome (well "cute" would be the right fifth grader word) AND he had blue eyes. It was like a dream, someone had sent a beautiful blonde boy to our school...one who looked like he could be on television or at least surfing somewhere in California. I was infatuated with him, but keep in mind I never talked to him. I was scared, my little underarms sweat profusely whenever I walked near him. I could never find the nerve to say anything...so I did what all other grammar school girls do, I confessed to my best friends that I was in love. They always thought everything I said or did was hilarious (and I'm grateful, I'm glad I made them laugh) and it was usually because I was always so dramatic about everything...I guess I still am. Still, I trusted them with my secret. I thought loving him from afar would suffice since he seemed to only enjoy physical education and lunch and we never found him talking to ANY girls. So he could be my secret boyfriend in my mind, I had no competition...until the pretty girls took notice and mustered up all the third base courage they could find to ask him "out" (out meaning, steady I assume since no fifth grader ever drove a car) One day on the playground, surrounded by my friends, I watched my secret lover betray me by talking to the experienced, pretty girl...and my heart just crumbled. I was devastated. I didn't have red hair, I didn't have "boobs" (what were those?) I didn't know what spin the bottle was, and I certainly didn't french kiss. I was a plain and simple loser who made good grades.
My blonde beau found a new love interest (in reality, he never talked to her either but still they were "going together") and I continued to admire him from afar.

He eventually moved away, his father being a county sherriff's deputy, and we never saw him again. I never forgot him, I still had all those photos we snapped of him during our school trip to the zoo. But I moved on myself, and found bigger bad boys to relish in. Still, it's always curious to me to find out whatever happened to kids we used to know, the ones that made a small impression on us.
Sometimes it's not hard to find them at all...
The poor guy now has a permanent record, one to be proud of for sure. Add him to my growing list of former crushes now turned felons.