November 22, 2002 | 11:29 AM

Second grade passed with no romantic prospects in sight. I got a great deal of work done. I wrote a play about all the different types of aliens I imagined living on each planet in the solar system (Jumping Venees lived on Venus�they had to keep jumping up and down because the ground was so hot that it burned their feet. And Fat Sats lived on Saturn�they were enormously fat because otherwise they would float away, Saturn having no gravity and all; yeah I know it sounds lame but I was in second grade, OK?) The play was performed in front of the entire school, produced and directed by yours truly.

After the play, I was IQ tested and placed into the Gifted Kids program which met for a couple hours a day during which I got to write poetry and research outer space. It was fabulous. The girls in both my regular class and my gifted class were nice normal nerdy kids like me�kids who liked Star Wars and camping and reading Little House on the Prairie. Second grade may have been the happiest year of my life.

And then came third grade.

In third grade I wound up in Mrs. Micheal�s class and I didn�t know a soul. All of the girls in the class were an entirely different breed from me. They cared about charm necklaces and made up cheerleading routines to Belinda Carlisle songs, where as I liked rocking back and forth to the Beatles and the Zombies and Blondie. I was absolutely not in any way shape or form on their wavelength and couldn�t give a fuck about charm necklaces or banana clips or any of that crap. And out of the whole class, I was the only girl in the Gifted program. I was an instant pariah

There was only one thing to do�join up with the boys.

This was no easy feat since third grade is the height of girls against boys and cooties. But I persisted.

I took to wearing jeans and a baseball hat to school every day. I started buying baseball cards and swearing. I even tucked my long hair under my Dodgers cap (for some unknown reason I had decided they were my favorite team.) The girls in the class grew to hate me even more. When Brianna McPhee had a birthday party, I was the only girl in the class not invited. Not that I would have wanted to go anyway.

My hard work was paying off with the boys though. Finally, they let me into their circle. It was a huge relief.

Ben and Jeff and Eric and Chad and Aaron and I played kickball and wrestled at recess (yes, I am proud to say that my favorite pastime was wrestling the boys. I often had black eyes and bloody noses. I think I got off a little bit on all that aggression.)

There was only one problem. I was developing a major crush on Aaron. And this was definitely a no no. If you�re lucky enough to be accepted by the boys as well, a boy, going all-gooey on one of them is not going to win you any popularity contests.

Aaron. Aaron Sapperstein. He was a science nerd, Starwars fan, video game junkie, and voracious reader of Madeline L�Engle novels. Perfect. Just perfect.

And, he liked me back.

We paid a high price for our love affair. As the only couple in the class, the boys disowned us and the girls hated us even more than they already had. We walked hand in hand down the hall and kids hissed at us and called us names.

It was worth it though. We had each other.

Oh Aaron. Aaron Sapperstein. I remained good friends with him all through high school. He was a sweet dorky kid. Now he�s a successful photographer of runway models in New York. Who woulda thunk it?