Childhood crushes

I couldn't avoid a trip down memory lane after reading The Frisky's roundup of childhood crush anecdotes.

My first real crush happened in sixth grade. It involved the class bad boy, Cory, and many teary school dances. Sigh. Unrequited love.

I made my biggest advance when Cory lost the piece of burlap we got for a mandatory art project. Our teacher refused to give him a new one and said he had to rely on his own resources.

For one day only, "his own resources" meant me.

I immediately opened my big mouth and said my mom had TONS of burlap at home.

It wasn't exactly true. I stayed up until midnight, pouring through my mom's sewing boxes until I finally discovered a wrinkled square of burlap about half the size of the piece required for our project.

Still, Cory gladly accepted it and passed sixth grade. I'm sure he now owns many small islands.

I think about that story a lot, mainly because it reminds me of the relentless optimism with which I viewed the quasi-relationships of my childhood.

I operated with a determination based on the real-life application of films like "Can't Buy Me Love" and "Sixteen Candles."

Of course, social networking's rise had now made it nearly impossible to view your earliest crushes idealistically.

Succumb to curiosity and you'll inevitably find out your kindergarten crush now belongs to a Facebook group centered on violent weapons.

Are you out there, Cory?