There have been three loves in my life. the first love, the love/hate and the real love. The last one is easy, that is my Wife and Kids, without whom I am not complete (I hate you Tom Cruise.) The Third will not get a blog entry as I will never consider the real love a waste of time. The other two I feel should be talked about. I will cover the love/hate at a later time as when I start that one, it may take me a month to stop whining. I mean writing.
My first love happened to me between the ages of five and eight, I can’t narrow it down because although I have a good memory, it’s not THAT good.
Barbara was a sweet girl who worked at the library. She was quiet and always well-mannered. Too look at her you would have no doubt that she knew her way around books. In fact “Book-worm” fits her well. She had black hair and wore tight sweaters that really didn’t belong in a library, but those were the fashions of the day. Her father was a well-respected man in the city, he had a high-ranking job and all the law-abiding citizens looked up to him. He had friends in high society who Barbara spent way too much time around, making me very jealous. These people were millionaires! Money was no problem. I never had two pennies to rub together so why would she even look at me? Her being with the jet-set seemed to attract the wrong sort of people way too often for my liking. There never seemed to be a week go by when you would hear of some kind of trouble. And at one point someone even tried to kidnap Barbara, but luckily that ended O.K.
Barbara was never the same though after being kidnapped. It really affected her day-to-day behaviour. Yes, she still went to work at the library, but at night she was getting herself into all kinds of trouble. She would dress up in even tighter clothes (not that I really minded, she looked great) her heels got higher, she would ride fancy motorbikes and the circles she moved in got more dangerous. She would hang around with two men who wore just as tight clothes as her, yes they seemed to be looking after her and her safety, but she would always need to be helped out of a jam. It was worrying, every week I would wonder if the next week she would be safe. It was hard for a young boy to take. But I still loved her and dreamt every night that it was me who was there to save her.
Oh Batgirl, I still think about you!
Things I Wasted Too Much Time On. 
Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented:
FRANKLY, MINE WAS CAT WOMAN!