I can’t recall early childhood crushes, but I distinctly remember one from the spring of 1996 when I was 12 years old.

It was the kind of Spring that lived up to its name. I was in the first year of secondary school, and after a first term of hurtful bullying I undertook a lot of (unfortunate) editing of my appearance and personality. Whether this action altered the situation or not, life in the second half of the year became far lighter and brighter.

I felt the flutter of early pubescent vibrancy that was outshining the fear that stalks those new to secondary school, and it was as if I was blossoming just like the cherry trees in the courtyard.

I became fond of a brunette girl in my class. She wasn’t the most glamorous girl, and had a bit of ‘street cred’ coming from a tougher estate, which equally intimidated me and drew me in.

I had no idea what do with these feelings other than romanticise the situation over school chip dinners and the second side of a tape recording of ‘What’s the Story (Morning Glory)’.

I’ve always been naive and sensitive in equal measure, and always erroneously gambled on a New Now where the ridicule and soft-bullying I so hate as part of life gave way to softer kinder relations. But as I walked around a nearby village, looking in every Bookies and pub to find a newly-made friend’s unemployed dad, I realised I’d made a massive mistake by telling 3 friends who my secret crush was.

As you can imagine, it ceased to be a secret. After the disclosure, the 3 friends got me to the floor on a built up street, and sat on me until I disclosed more further. By this point I felt routinely humiliated.

They promised me that they would tell everyone once we got back to school.

And as great as my memories of this summer holiday are, I also recall beig haunted by the fear what was coming.

What came was quite humiliating, as they stuck to their word, and before I managed to get to the block where our form room was on the Monday morning, they’d already told everyone.

To be fair, nothing happened, apart from the girl in question losing her shit with all the silly little 12 year old boys giggling and making rude things up. Equally she was far more grown up than I was. She was street wise, she was already dating lads, whilst I was still eating ice pops in the summer and pop tarts in the winter.

I don’t like modern dating apps. I don’t know how to communicate with photos of people. But a month ago I decided to have another go and the first person I saw was the girl (now woman) in question. Now with a life and with teenage children of her own, I found it hard to swipe left.

I swiped right. But then deleted the app 2 minutes later.