As an adult I know now it would be hard to flirt with someone while wearing a long dowdy plaid wenches costume as you twirled and polka-ed about while singing about ripe strawberries ripe, food glorious food and other turn of the century depressing english stuff. As an 7th grader it was pretty easy, funny enough.
The drummer for the orchestra was a boy a year older than me and I found it odd because all the other musicians in the play were older, like adults. He was shy and his bangs were always in his eyes. He went to an expensive all boys private school and took me to a dance where I realized he was the emperor of all the geeky boys in his class. I swear,one of his friends wore a pocket protector and brought a calculator to the dance. Also, he was the only one with a date. His parents lived in a huge house in the nice part of the city and he bought me a walkman for christmas which seemed very personal and extravagant. Sort of the 13 year old version of lingerie or something. It was pretty hot. We kissed on his bed, chastely and that was pretty much it except for a few make out sessions backstage somewhere toward the end of the rehearsals.
He just kind of wandered off after the show and at 13 I was not savvy enough to go and really look for him. I am certain we had exchanged numbers and we must have talked on the phone at some point and so the vacant space the end of it all takes up in my mind is a mystery.
I have always adored the arty type. The musicians, the poets, the artists and this I am sure is explained by some version of Greek tragedy coupled with a lesson from Freud. This boy played the drums and my heart as it just was learning how to beat.