The Crush

Five weeks into my new budgeted/clean living/ lord this is boring program, my brain turns to the one thing I’ve not renounced. Crushes.

You remember – daydreams based on nothing except beautiful eyes and a delicious drawl, the ‘I daren’t look at you or you’ll know’ interactions, considering and changing clothes before the most innocent of meetings. Clearly with little on my brain except my sputtering lack of a career, the transparency of my bank account and increasing numbers on the scale I know a crush is just a distraction. But its free, its innocent and until Google finds a way to share your searches.. relatively harmless (unless you start driving my his house, in which case, you’re on your own sista).
Just something to give a little ‘oomph’ to your step and frankly, give you a reason to wash your hair on the weekends.

I revel in the secrecy of a new crush, which I hug to myself, fantasizing about the possibility (and fear) of reciprocation and delighting in his presence. Of course, I’m still me which means I know this has a shelf life of about 6 weeks, the reality could probably shorten that to a few hours and really, with nothing in common, I’d be bored by the end of a date. But for now, its delicious to fantasize. 

I’ve had crushes on 5 ft 5 yoga instructors, pear shaped IT help-desk nerds, the guy who fixes my bike and even a former boss who was nicknamed, unfortunately, Mr. Potato-head. Its not about beauty or suitability and often its totally random, but something in my brain just goes off and I instantly created an entire story about that person based on a single flick of a phone, a frown and even, yes, the way someone walks. Based on my internal back-story, this person is  exactly what I’ve been missing, they’re sexual napalm and damn, if only… if only.  
Of course Mr. Potato Head probably was just as dull as his Nordstom casuals wardrobe, and I honestly fell out of crush-ville when my pear shaped guy stood up.. but for a fleeting hour, day or week..I was 15 and drafting love notes in my head. 

And frankly, anything that makes me feel 15 and doesn’t involve cradle robbing or crop tops is fine by me. 



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