Gone With The First Romance

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I spoke with a friend about closet romantics. She asked me when I started dating seriously. My initial response was that I started dating approximately a year and a half ago.

And then I thought of Shragi. Shragi, the guy who was my boyfriend for many years. We started going out when I was three years old. I was not desperate at that point yet, I just had an open mind to meeting people and making friends. We met in kindergarden and became friends instantly. He was the best. He would sit there for hours being my model student and tolerating my impatience and explosions with love and interest. He filled any role I asked him to without complaints.

Shragi had orange hair that formed the most adorable curls on his head. He was skinny with skin as white as snow and freckles that threatened to cover his entire face when exposed to the sun. His mother was obsessed with suntan lotion and would shmear it all over his face despite protests. I just stood by the side and looked at Shragi with pity. Somehow, back then I knew that a good girl should not argue with her mother-in-law.

Our parents were friends, so on the days we had off from school, our families would have picnicks in public parks. While our parents would fold out blankets and lay them with all sorts of yummy foods, such as the chocolate bars we only received on special occasions, and the yummy sandwiches that were made out of the most delicious Shabbos leftovers, I would take Shragi's white hand and together we would walk for hours on end through the park discussing our lives, our future together, the home we were going to build and other wonderful things. We discussed the Parsha, the Midrashim the teacher told us, we laughed at how stupid Pharaoh must have felt when he took a sip of water and realized it was blood. We giggled together.

Sometimes, when we behaved nicely, we would be allowed to have sleepover parties. I loved them the most. Because then we never had to separate. I could just be with Shragi today and still be with him all the way into tomorrow, and then tomorrow we would go to kindergarden again so we were inseparable. His mother would read Curious George to us and would turn off the lights.
That was when all the fun began. That was when I would discuss my theories with Shragi. He wholeheartedly agreed with everything I said, because after all, it made perfect sense logically. My theory was that at the age of nineteen all girls become boys, and at the age of fourteen, boys become girls. I figured that this had to be true, because G-d could not have created a world where beings never got to try out what it is like being on the other side of humanity. Here are some of the details we developed in the long dark nights when all the parents of the world thought we were sleeping. Those who were born as girls were luckier because by the time they were transformed into men they already had a Brit Millah, while those who were born as boys had to go through the painful operation as newborns.

When Shragi doubted me on that one, because he was annoyed that I was the lucky one who did not have to go through the pain, I proved the authenticity of my side of the argument. Mora Batia taught us that one has a Bris Milah when he is eight days old. I made sure to ask specifically about nineteen, and was informed that people aren't given a Brit Millah at nineteen. Once I explained, Shragi understood. He always did. That is what I loved about him. The only difficulty with my theory was that between the age of fourteen and nineteen there was an overwhelming majority of female human beings on earth, since the boys already became girls, and the girls were still girls. The guys had somehow disappeared. The difficulty bothers me to this day.

When I was sick, Shragi came to my home and sat by my bed for hours reading me my favorite story about Sarah and her Glida. I sat next to him when he had a splinter in his foot and was scared of a needle penetrating his skin. Shragi was my best friend.

So where is this Shragi of yours today? You may ask...

Ah, well the story ended the summer I turned six years old. We graduated from kindergarden and spent the entire summer playing together. When the summer was over I went to school. Shragi went to Cheder. After the first day of school, I met up with Shragi and we went for a walk with our mothers around the lake. My mother was walking with his mother behind us and we were in front.

I was so excited. I told him about my teacher, about the fact that I was going to learn how to write and read, I told him that we counted all the way to a hundred. Shragi listened, but he did not seem happy at all. He was extremely quiet.
What's wrong, Shragi? I asked. How was Cheder?
Shragi told me that his Rebbi told him that he cannot talk to girls anymore. I was shocked.
But that does not apply to me, I argued, it cannot possibly, I am your best friend! I love you.

I was desperate for him to react but he did not. He had this empty look in his eyes.

So it's over. I half said, half asked.
Yeah, he said, I guess it's over.
And then I asked the inevitable. 

So you don't love me anymore? I was having difficulty comprehending this.
He looked at his feet and said. I don't love you anymore.
I wanted to cry, but I was a big girl, I was already six years old. And big girls don't cry.

That was the end of my first romance.