Manhood: How to Be a Better Man-or Just Live with One by Terry Crews Page A

well.
    “Hey, Sophia, this is cool,” I said. “Thank you. I had a great evening.”
    And then we kissed. It was my first kiss, and I was done. I was in love.
    “Bye, Terry,” she said as she climbed out of the car.
    “Bye, Sophia,” I said.
    But what I was thinking was:
I would die for you
.
    I floated home. There hadn’t been any sex, and I was glad. I didn’t want any of that to corrupt the way I felt for her. To me, pornography was dirty. And this was pure. She cared. I cared. I didn’t want to mess any of that up. Our kiss was perfect.
    ———
    I’D RECEIVED A FULL SCHOLARSHIP TO A PRESTIGIOUS SUMMER arts program, Interlochen Center for the Arts, located in northwest Michigan, and I left for six weeks soon after my date. Interlochen was a seismic shift for me. So many talented, creative people have gone there, from Dermot Mulroney to Mike Wallace to Norah Jones, and it meant a great deal to me to be in such illustrious company. Interlochen was also my first immersion in another culture. I was living outside of the city for the first time. I met people from California and Germany. I also took my first video production class, in which I made a rap video with my Flint Academy classmate Ron Croudy, who is still a close friend to this day. After this experience, I was more convinced than ever that I’d make it to the world of entertainment someday. On top of that, during a group competition among ten of us young artists, a judge from the Art Institute of Cincinnati picked my drawings as the best. That was a really important affirmation of my artistic talent, and I savored the joy of receiving his praise. But before I could turn my attention to my love of arts and entertainment, I had a college football scholarship to win. And before that, I had a girl to see, and maybe kiss again.
    We had no cell phones back then, so I wrote Sophia long letters all summer. She sent me one letter, and then, just like that, I didn’t receive any more letters from her. I kept writing, but she didn’t write back. When I was able to call her from the pay phone, she was always busy. But I didn’t let that dampen my feelings, or my hope.
    As soon as I got home from Interlochen, the first thing I did was go to the phone and call Sophia. I was so happy just to hear her voice.
    “Hey, I’m home,” I said. “Can we go out? I figured we could do something.”
    She paused for a long moment.
    “I’m sorry. I have a date. We can’t go out.”
    “But I thought—”
    “No, Terry, we’d be better off just being friends.”
    I was crushed. I mean we’re talking about the first girl I’d ever kissed, and six weeks of buildup about all of the things we were going to do together, and how I would see her on my school breaks and visit her when she went away to college the following year. I had a whole scenario laid out in my mind, and in my heart. Because I’d never gone through this when I should have, at age thirteen, or sixteen, I was very naive. I was stunted. And then, just like that, my heart was broken.
    I didn’t realize it at the time, but as I hung up the phone and went back to my room, all of these horrible feelings from my childhood were being stirred up inside of me, feelings that I was worthless and unlovable, feelings that if I wasn’t absolutely perfect, then no one would ever love me. All I knew at the time was that I felt unwanted. I hated it. And I never wanted to feel that way again. So I made a vow to myself:
    I have to be someone. I have to get out of Flint. I have to make it so somebody will want me. And then I’ll show everybody
.
    Soon after that, my father drove me up to Western Michigan University, and I set it out for him just as clearly as if I were reading directions from the map.
    “I’m gonna be a pro football player,” I said.
    “Well, you know, only one in a million makes it,” he said.
    “I’m one in a million,” I said. “I’m one in a million.”
    “Okay,” he said, not exactly