A Crush

Image from here

On the days I know we're going to see each other I am all happy and smiley, unable to concentrate and fluffing up my hair as if he were watching. I think about what I'll wear, wondering what he'll notice while trying not to look like I dressed up for him. I repeat to myself: Be cool. Do not give away that you like him! That is the death of cool. Must keep cool alive.

I leave for class so excitedly that I forget my books. I realize it when I'm almost there. Of course, I'm me, so I'm half an hour early, because I always plan for the unexpected and I am never, ever late. So I have time to go home and get my books and then get to class on time. No, not on time. Early. I am always early.

He is always late.

He rushes into class, finds his seat quickly, and our eyes don't meet. My heart sinks. He is only two chairs away, though, and so I know I will not hear a word the teacher says. I am busy memorizing the side of his arm and shoulder. I need to memorize him so that I can think about him when we're not in class.

Of course it's in the two seconds that I am distracted by something else that he looks at me. When I look back he's waiting for my gaze. In my state of unpreparedness, I break out a huge smile with a half-giggle, complete with a pulling my hair behind my ear move. So not cool.

But he returns the smile. With a wink. A light wink. Just one of those, "Hey there," winks that really attractive men give away for free. I blush. Death of cool. 

Of course we have a group activity in class today, and of course we are in the same group. This is good, because I know more than he does about what we're asked to do and can impress him. He is impressed. He touches the side of my arm to look at my notes and my legs almost splash everywhere; they turn to liquid so fast.

We find excuses to talk to each other and I am all smiles and eye-glows. I have lots of time to memorize his scent and the warmth I feel when I stand close to him. Time goes by too fast; it always does when you're alive.

Class is over. We are free to go. He has to stay behind for a few minutes. I desperately look for a reason to be hanging out in the hallway waiting for him, so we can walk a bit together, but I cannot find one. Without a reason, I would go from being charming to obvious. And obvious is so not cool.

I leave.

But I have so many new things about him that I've memorized, so many new moments to replay in my head all the time; I have fresh material to be giddy-smiley about for days.

The effect of a crush, I've learned, stands the test of time, cynicism, and experience.

I am 26 years old. I am 16 years old. I am 6 years old. I am 46 years old. And my smile is exactly the same.

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I'll have a guest post going up today on the blog JUST LIVE LOVE LAUGH; be sure to check for it!

A Quickie: How to Win His Heart

When I was 12, I had a huge crush on this guy, whom I'll call Bonzo here. Clueless about seduction, I was desperate for advice on how to win his heart. Lo and behold, a teen magazine I read religiously at the time published an article titled, "How to Win His Heart". It gave me some very specific instructions, such as:

1. Write his name on a piece of paper, then put the piece of paper in a jar of honey, and store the jar under your bed.

2. Fake fainting around him. It'll give him a chance to take care of you and feel knight-like.

3. Buy a notebook that looks just like his, make sure your phone number is in it, and swap yours for his when he isn't looking.

4. Flirt with your teacher in front of him. Seeing you get attention from an older man will awaken his animalistic need to mark his territory.

5. Ask a friend to give you a hickey. He has to know you're not waiting for him to notice you.

So I followed the advice to boot and, as predicted, he fell madly in love with me and we had a beautiful love story.

NOT.

What really happened was:

1. I ended up with an ant infestation under my bed and had to explain to my mom why I had a jar of honey with the word BONZO in it.

2. I got sent to the nurse for "fainting", she thought I was skipping meals and sent me to the guidance counselor, who gave me a bunch of brochures on eating disorders.

3. I bought the damn notebook, swapped mine for Bonzo's, but he apparently never missed his notebook because he never called me or returned my notebook to me or tried to figure out where his notebook was.

4. My teacher stood stone-still when I hugged him. Awkward and, if I had lived in the U.S. at the time, probably would've gotten us both arrested. No one's animalistic need to mark their territory was awakened, as far as I could tell.

5. My mom saw my hickey and grounded me for, like, ever.

Bonzo soon started dating some girl and I cancelled my subscription to said teen magazine.

Conclusion:

Honey doesn't have magic powers.

Fainting isn't hot.

Notebook swapping isn't how Cupid communicates.

Don't hug your middle-school teachers.

Hickeys are just a bad idea, period.

And teen magazines are full of shit.

image from here.