(Note: this is not aimed at any particular Jennifer out there. It is, however, a true story about how weird I am.)

I was only five years old
And had a kind of crush
On this blonde girl named Jennifer
Who always made me blush

She was an older woman –
She was six, or maybe seven –
And as we’d play together
I could feel my young face redden

We moved away, as happens,
But as years went by I found
I still loved the name, “Jennifer”
It’s such a pretty sound

And when my teen years hit me
And the fantasies occurred;
If she was not someone I knew
She was named “Jennifer”

I don’t know why, it’s silly.
And, as such, it was my fate
To never meet a Jennifer –
Not one that I could date.

And then I met my true love,
And her name began with “J”;
And that, I thought, was close enough
To take it all the way.

Yet…

The boy somewhere inside me
5 years old, struck by romance –
Wanted to love a Jennifer
But never got his chance