I started dating when I was 15. Since then, I've had a slew of boyfriends, flings, dinner dates and objects of my stalker efforts. They've all been very different - I've dated tall guys, short guys, smart guys, dumb guys, birthday clowns, liberals and even one Republican.
But they've all had one thing in common: They all look like they are 12.
Now, this wasn't much of a problem when I actually was 12 and had crushes on pretty much the same three boys as the rest of the girls in my grade. However, as the boys matured and my girl friends' tastes sophisticated, my eyes wandered from the boys endowed with distinguishing jaw lines and early facial hair to those nature had left behind.
To avoid being arrested, I should probably emphasize that I've never actually been attracted to a younger guy, only those my age who look much younger than they really are.
As a teenager, this odd characteristic distinguished me from my friends, preventing the typical fight over a boy. While my friends would all drool over the brawny guy with a goatee across the lunchroom, my eyes would be fixed on his friend Timmy who never outgrew his bowl cut or Gap Kids T-shirt.
Look at him,"" my friend Megan said. ""Oooh, the way he tears off each bite of his steak. I can only imagine what else he can do with his mouth.""
""And the way his jaw sticks out while he's chewing,"" Becky replied. ""If I could just get five minutes alone with him I think I'd die.""
""I get so hot watching him eat his peanut butter sandwich and pureed prunes,"" I said, staring intently at Timmy. ""He does it with such conviction. Wait. Is he crying?""
Megan, Becky and I watched as Timmy angrily threw his sandwich on the ground, muttered something that sounds like ""crust"" and ran out of the cafeteria.
Life got a little more complicated once I stopped admiring prepubescent 18-year-olds from afar and started dating them.
""Kiera, we need to talk about the way you've been treating me,"" my boyfriend Davey said.
""Aww, is my baby waby feeling sad?""
""You act like I'm your newborn or something""
""Coochey coochey coo!"" I said, pinching his cheeks.
""You bought me a pacifier and a book called 'Poo Poo in the Potty' for my birthday.""
""Which you never read.""
""Kiera...""
""It's OK, I'll help you with the big words.""
""That's all I ask.""
""There's that smiley wiley I've been waiting for!""
My odd preference for choosing my significant others has never really been problematic. Aside from a few disapproving glares when I walk through the mall with my date, I can't say my love life has been wildly unsuccessful.
It was really just a matter of finding someone who could balance his childish looks with mature composure in the relationship. My boyfriend Jeff, while he looks as if he could be anywhere between 11 and 20 years old, knows when to bat his eyes like a baby if he wants me to share my cookies, but can also use his big boy voice to protect me - like when someone else wants to eat my cookies.
Even though he is no longer teething and was potty trained before we met, I don't think I could ask for anything more.
So when my eyes wander to a group of sixth graders trying to sneak into an R-rated movie as Jeff and I walk down State Street, I let him think it's my maternal instinct and not my dating history that causes my eyes to dart.
If you're celebrating your 12th birthday soon, e-mail Kiera at wiatrak@wisc.edu.
