Inappropriate Longing
One of my most annoying traits is how quickly I develop and sustain inappropriate crushes. It's like I'm in a perpetual state of teendom, finding new, vulnerable boys (Are twenty-something males considered men yet?) to be obsessed with. I don't remember any lengthy period of time where I didn't have some sort of love interest. Like the second act of a Shakespearean comedy, the love interest has been identified, but it's three more acts until the wedding, and anything can happen until then.
"You're boy-crazy" my friend Ellie told me when we were 14.
"You're boy-crazy" my friend Dan told me when I was 21.
"You're boy-crazy" my friend Tracey told me last week.
Hmmm.
It's not as though I want to be in relationships with these crushes. I'm happy being single. More often than not, it's just someone to think about when I'm bored. And more often than not, they're people who already have people. My most recent crush for example.
I met him through a friend, all curly hair and smiles. I knew off the bat he was taken. Probably because he had that glow of love around him. It's as impenetrable as a forcefield and as alluring as a rainbow. Quite probably it's the knowledge that he's nice enough to initiate and maintain and real, long term, grown up relationship. Whatever it was, he had it in buckets and spades.
He was funny. He was smart. He laughed at my jokes - at the right places and everything. Most importantly, the same way bats can feel the presence of other bats when humans in the same room can't, writers can recognise other writers. People fascinated by words use them differently, I guess. As soon as he asked me what my degree was in, I knew he knew.
"English Literature eh? Oh, and language?"
Yes, I know you did it too. I can hear it all over you.
Cocktails flowed freely (mostly because he was getting them for free). Music sang and danced around us and our conversation was making leaps and bounds of its own. Despite my best attempts to keep this in check, with every flicker of a smile from him, I could feel the beginnings of a crush stirring. When he nodded me over to help him out at the bar and teased me about how south London my accent gets the more Caipirihnas I drink; I knew the flower of my crush was starting to bloom. All bright and pretty, damn it. The music taunted us until we deigned to join in with it. He spun me, and the flower made another lurch towards the forbidden sun. Why oh why is forbidden fruit so sweet?
Let's get some things clear, he didn't flirt with me. I could smell the love on him. For my part, I did my best to hide all signs that this newly budding infatuation was creeping up my throat, choking me whenever I tried to speak. The night went on fabulously and he was beginning to glow. Typical.
The clock struck 11. I took myself and my flower home.
We got in touch afterwards - purely business - and he directed me to his blog, to see his writing - again, for business - and it was brilliant. His most brilliant piece was written about his girlfriend. All evocative images and precious emotions. Intense rawness, real and beautiful. Boy got skills, literally.
It's a safe crush. One where, ironically, I will remain uncrushed. My little flower of longing for him will remain in my head. Mutual appreciation is a state I'm growing more comfortable with in these situations.
I wonder who it'll be next week...?
"You're boy-crazy" my friend Ellie told me when we were 14.
"You're boy-crazy" my friend Dan told me when I was 21.
"You're boy-crazy" my friend Tracey told me last week.
Hmmm.
It's not as though I want to be in relationships with these crushes. I'm happy being single. More often than not, it's just someone to think about when I'm bored. And more often than not, they're people who already have people. My most recent crush for example.
I met him through a friend, all curly hair and smiles. I knew off the bat he was taken. Probably because he had that glow of love around him. It's as impenetrable as a forcefield and as alluring as a rainbow. Quite probably it's the knowledge that he's nice enough to initiate and maintain and real, long term, grown up relationship. Whatever it was, he had it in buckets and spades.
He was funny. He was smart. He laughed at my jokes - at the right places and everything. Most importantly, the same way bats can feel the presence of other bats when humans in the same room can't, writers can recognise other writers. People fascinated by words use them differently, I guess. As soon as he asked me what my degree was in, I knew he knew.
"English Literature eh? Oh, and language?"
Yes, I know you did it too. I can hear it all over you.
Cocktails flowed freely (mostly because he was getting them for free). Music sang and danced around us and our conversation was making leaps and bounds of its own. Despite my best attempts to keep this in check, with every flicker of a smile from him, I could feel the beginnings of a crush stirring. When he nodded me over to help him out at the bar and teased me about how south London my accent gets the more Caipirihnas I drink; I knew the flower of my crush was starting to bloom. All bright and pretty, damn it. The music taunted us until we deigned to join in with it. He spun me, and the flower made another lurch towards the forbidden sun. Why oh why is forbidden fruit so sweet?
Let's get some things clear, he didn't flirt with me. I could smell the love on him. For my part, I did my best to hide all signs that this newly budding infatuation was creeping up my throat, choking me whenever I tried to speak. The night went on fabulously and he was beginning to glow. Typical.
The clock struck 11. I took myself and my flower home.
We got in touch afterwards - purely business - and he directed me to his blog, to see his writing - again, for business - and it was brilliant. His most brilliant piece was written about his girlfriend. All evocative images and precious emotions. Intense rawness, real and beautiful. Boy got skills, literally.
It's a safe crush. One where, ironically, I will remain uncrushed. My little flower of longing for him will remain in my head. Mutual appreciation is a state I'm growing more comfortable with in these situations.
I wonder who it'll be next week...?
posted by KJT at 1:29 am
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