Writing tragically poor poetry to a girl you fancied at school would be one way to guarantee five years of bullying. Not having the wit even to do this, one lad at our school sent the object of his affections one of his pubic hairs through the post instead. With love letter attached. Which didn't work, obviously. He's now a policeman. Equally obviously.

If this is the same bloke I'm thinking of, this was just his warm up act. A few weeks after that incident he came to school with a small bottle of his man-goo and presented that to the same girl he gave his pubic hairs to. The quizical look on her face turned to horror when what she was holding in her hand became apparent to her. Needless to say this went down a lot worse than the pubic hairs and we were all pretty sure that any chance that he had with the girl were completely fucked.

I like it when that happens. People finding each other. I feel like Cilla Black, I really do.

In teen flicks like Ferris Bueller or anything with Molly Ringwald in it, halting a History lesson to stand on your desk and read a love poem to the object of your affections in front of the whole class would earn you a round of applause and much *whooping*. The girl would say Yes Chud! and you would both run across the playing field, hand-in-hand, while the Principal looks on, choking back the tears yet maintaining a sobering level of dignity throughout.
When Ken Searle did it, on the other hand, it was the most painfully shit thing that I have ever seen. And he got a detention.

Our school suffered a boy who would periodically fall in love with girls and express his feelings by giving them letters. Once girls began to talk about these letters, it turned out that they were word-for-word identical.
Not only that, but they contained the unforgivable phrase, "every guy deserves a chance..."

I bet you feel like a hairy orange.

Mark used to be a nice, good looking boy. He then fell in love and became a bit of a psycho. He cycled to the girls house in the middle of the night, and used a ladder to climb up to her window and tap on it, hoping this would make her love him. It did not. She confided in my friend and soon we all knew. He went even more psycho when we would mention late night cycling to him in general conversation. She was actually quite scared by the whole thing, sadly she went on to take drugs and was seen cycling around with a home made drug smoking device.

Me and my best friend used to write love letters to boys in the frilliest handwriting possible and stick them were the boy would find it. It was even more fun copying a popular girl's handwriting and giving it to one of the homo boys.

The one I remember most went a little something like this.
"Oh, I can't wait to get underneath you in my mom's car, and we can finally do it. I've wanted to for so long, now. Touching myself isn't enough anymore, I have to let you."