A guy once sang to me in front of an audience. Granted that this was in fifth or sixth grade and the audience was our class, but I still remember how utterly flattered (and self-conscious) I felt.
A guy once wrote poetry for me. He broke my heart twice. I should have known better after the first time, but young people are stubborn that way. He gave me flimsy excuses on both instances.
A guy once gave me handmade expressions of love. He doesn’t give me those now. I wish he’d give me flowers.