The Primary School Nemesis

There is a boy I appear to be friends with… against all the odds.

We were definitely not friends when we were in Primary School. We haven’t seen each other since those days but he has now appeared back in my life, via the gym. Call it Small Town Syndrome.

On first spotting him I remembered twenty years ago and not being friends. He didn’t acknowledge me. I ignored him right back. I asked a friend about him, who in turn asked him about me, and he claimed he had no recollection of me. Liar.

Despite this, we appear to be friends now. We talk at the gym, we chat on Facebook. For all intents and purposes, we have struck up a friendship twenty years down the line from hating one another as children.

Stranger things have happened.

The one thing that has struck me, however, is that most of our communication is like being back in primary school. Except instead of him hating me, he is flirting with me. But like a child.

He teases. He criticises with a smirk. He appears next to me unexpectedly, tells me about other girls he fancies, then asks me out. He tells me I look like an idiot when I’m doing my yoga, but that he likes watching because it’s hot. He is metaphorically pulling my hair and pushing me over.

Now don’t get me wrong, the boy grew up. He has turned into a proper grown man with muscles and a nice way of chatting. We have lots of conversations when he’s not mocking me and I enjoy his company. In theory he would be someone I could get interested in.

Except for the games. I’m not a child anymore. If I’m interested in someone I let them know. If I’m not I don’t go there. I’m not interested in games. I was barely interested in games when I was young enough to play them. So I don’t meet him for coffee, but I do chat to him when he appears. I don’t flirt back, but I do advise on other girls he likes.

If he does ever pull my pigtails though? That kid is going down.


About J.J. Barnes

Author of The Lilly Prospero Series Writer and Podcaster at Blogger at Rose And Mum And More Contributor to The Huffington Post
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