(Maybe Khadafi just likes his ladies ‘stern’ as appears to be the case in this side photo of Condoleezza.)
I had a pretty gruesome social life as a teen. For one thing, my father was principal of our small town’s only high school, and he was strict, to boot. In addition, it was still the era when a school principal impacted all aspects of his students’ lives. I recall his getting up before student audiences telling the kids where they could go over the weekend, following football games. They resented his intrusion, but they did his bidding.
To give you a little idea of how others viewed him, when a high school girlfriend came over in the summer and saw him in the garden, she said, “Your Dad’s got legs!?” She wasn’t so much doubting he was human as amazed he resorted to that human activity of wearing shorts.
The reality derailed her momentarily.
That same man sent me (his older daughter) Valentines when I was younger that read “Your secret admirer.” His secret was safe with me, for I never even guessed he was the perpetrator. Instead, I went about wondering who, out there, pined away for me.
I kept the cards with the padded, cushiony hearts and lace in my secret box of mementos and brought them out occasionally when I needed to boost my flagging, adolescent ego to prove that, indeed, “Someone cared.”
When I went to the high school, I missed most of the big dances (due to no escort) and kidded that for me to go to a dance escorted by a male, “the family would have to fly a young man in from Oklahoma” (we lived in Rhode Island.) My father was that feared.
At our recent class reunion (45th.), I got up and addressed my classmates, asking, by a show of hands, how many of the men in the audience (my former classmates) wanted to ask me out in high school… but didn’t dare. After general laughter (at my brazen query,) several hands shot up. We all had a good laugh, and I finally got my answer (I think.)
But, years ago, in high school, I created my own little world of romantic fiction.
Well, apparently Muammar Khadafi harbored his romantic illusions, too, for he kept a secret stash of photos of none other than former Secretary of State, Condoleeza Rice. Yes, when international forces stormed his compound recently, a photo album was discovered and it was all about Condee.
Now, what is it about a dark-haired lass, in crisp suit, with white shirt tucked in, and proper high-heeled pumps that gets a man’s blood a-flowing?
Yep, here was Kadafi, a man who ruled absolutely over his minions, one who, by all accounts, lived in his own alternate universe (aka “denial”) who believed his countrymen would lay down their lives for him, despite the fact many of them hated him and lived in squalor…Here was this man, harboring romantic thoughts about our little Condaleeza..
It got me to thinking: In the end, we‘ve probably all had our ‘secret crushes.‘ Thankfully, that’s all most of us have in common with a tyrant like Khadafi. Now, click on Condee’s sentiment regarding her being the object of Khadafi’s affection.
And here’s a post by Garrett Quinn of boston.com on the many spellings of Khadafy (note I’ve spelled his name differently here.)
Now, got your own memories of someone who sparked the fire of those around her? Was it an attraction you couldn’t comprehend (Just something about her where she had others eating out of her hand?) …
“Did/Do you have your own secret crush? (that no one else knew/knows about)?” “Are secret crushes the norm and are they healthy?” “Why?” “Why not?” Please ‘Share.’
You can always write in Comment section anonymously; your e-mail is asked for but never posted and never given out. Promise!