So, one time, I had a crush on this boy I went to school with, and I’m pretty sure it was in 5th grade or so. Kind of my first “real” crush in that I actually attempted to sit next to him in gym class instead of telling my girlfriends, “Ew, he totally smells; he’s gross!” and go about my business as if I wasn’t a budding adolescent with half a brain, wired for young attraction.
Anyway, one night, I was sitting at home, doing my homework after dinner and the phone rang. I answered it and it happened to be Tony, the kid I had the crush on. Though I’d been hoping for this moment for, like, months, I completely wasn’t prepared, hissed “Why are you calling me?” into the phone and – yes – hung up on him. Dear God. I immediately melted into a puddle of remorse and embarrassment. I mean, WHAT HAD I DONE. This was back in the day where caller ID had no place in society and *69 was a thing of the future – there was no way to get a hold of Tony other than to look up every residence with his last name and – gasp – try every name in the phone book. The phone book.
So I did. It took me an hour, but I eventually phoned, found him, and apologized for being so rude earlier on the telephone. And to this day? I still remember that phone number, and I still remember the book report I was working on at the time. It was for The Hobbit.
In short, The Hobbit will forever remain embedded in my memory as a token of the innocence in a young girl’s school crush. GO HOBBIT.