Girlonthenet: Being an emotionless wreck, you’d be forgiven for thinking that my heart is never touched. You’d be wrong – only slightly wrong, but wrong nonetheless.
This week the lovely Jon, of ‘Things I have done to impress women‘ fame, sent me a guest post that made me both laugh and also pity him – and all men – who have a tendency to put cute women on pedestals and subsequently become terrified of talking to them.
It’s pretty, it’s poetic, it’s funny, and it’s warm. In short – it is everything that I am usually not, which is why I adore it. Over to him:
Crushing it
The thing is, you never know when it’s going to hit you. Sometimes, you’ll just be thirsty. It’s a cold, crisp October morning, and you just want a hot drink. So you’ll go into the nearest corporate coffee emporium and order the silliest sounding hot drink. While pondering whether you want one of those little caramel biscuit things, you realise that the barista is asking you a question. You’re just in the middle of saying “large” when you look up and meet her eyes. Christ. They have a piercing quality that burns through your skull. You manage to say something that sounds like “laaaarr-g-g-le”. She smiles slightly, and brushes her dark hair from her eyes.
“Do you mean grande?” she asks, and you notice that there’s a slight tang of European accent there. You go into a conversational tailspin, trying to ask about the differences between grande and large, while worrying that all this size paranoia is somehow conveying that you have a small penis.
“And how will you be paying?” Shit. Do you give her a handful of change, or your debit card that’s been sellotaped together like a torn up love letter. She laughs at your card, while you make a feeble joke about hobo credit cards. She laughs, properly. You bask in the sunshine, and then, her headlamps turn onto her next victim, and suddenly you’re cast from the garden.
You do the dead man’s walk to the delivery table, cursing your inability to order a new credit card and not make jokes about the size of your cock. After a few minutes of mentally abusing yourself, and thinking about how absolutely ridiculous it would be for a girl like that to fancy you (I bet you think lap dancers are really into you too, right?), you realise they’re calling your order. You grab the coffee and walk out of the shop.
As you sit on the park bench sipping the molten hot java, you realise that there’s something written on the side in pen. Next to the ‘Grande’ tick box, she’d written “…But it’s what you do with it that counts! ;)”
For a guy, especially a lonely guy, sometimes it doesn’t take much to ignite the crush protocol. A kind word, a wink, a nice gesture across the office photocopier, and it’s fucking on like Donkey Kong.
Some crushes burn slowly, like incense, gradually filling your mind until you’re incapable of smelling anything but their honeyed fragrance, and you can’t look at a fucking lamp without thinking about what it would look like being knocked onto the floor when you sit them up on the desk and rip their knickers off.
Others hit you so hard and fast, you can’t even duplicate a report without thinking about laying her down on the glass plate and making 100 paper copies of your thrusting. You might even contemplate stapling all the pages together to make a flipbook, so you can replay your fucking in stop-motion.
You can’t talk to her on the phone without putting your hand down your pants and thinking about her on top of you, her hair falling in her face as she smiles and smiles while she rocks up and down on your steel hard cock, while she traces a finger down your perspiring chest. You rub your thighs and laugh as your cock has all it’s birthdays at the same time.
Sometimes, you can’t even buy a coffee without wanting to leap over the counter and offer her extra cream for once.
In some ways, whether it’s with someone you’ve hardly met or a friend that you shouldn’t really fancy, the crush is the perfect relationship. They’ll never disappoint you, they’ll never leave you – hell, they’ll always be the same age they were when you met them, frozen in the amber of your memory. They’ll always be wearing that outfit that made you shoot boners out of your eyes. It’ll always be that night when they drunkenly looked into your eyes for just a second too long. The sex will always be mind blowing, the kisses tender and the touches desperate and fumbling. It’s really the most perfect relationship you’ll ever have. And the only way you can ever fuck it up, is by trying to make it real. So as long as you can live in the bubble of imagination indefinitely, as long as you can deal with the constant gnawing feeling of incompleteness, the tangible taste of the unknown forever on your lips, you’ll always have a grande old time.
But it’ll cost you a fucking fortune in Cinnamon Dolce Lattes.
See? See?! Awesome. If you love it as much as I do you should read more of what he writes. And tell me about your own crushes in the comments, so I can pity and love you too.
7 Comments
Fantastic! All smiles and giggles! Coworkers think I am mad but this was worth it!
Oh boy. Been *there*… I practically live there in fact.
Oh! And I forgot! I am crushfree atm! I started a “6 months without men”-project in june and I am so far completely free!
Although all crushes are far behind me now, the most painful ones I can recall were the mutual ones that had to remain unfulfilled due to circumstances.
For example, this was the worse one, a best friend’s fiance. We were at a park, and my friend had left to get something or other. We were only introduced maybe an hour before, but in that moment we were alone, our eyes met, the lowering sun on our faces, we were transfixed, we were aquiver with forces beyond our control, our lips parted, helplessly drawn to one another as tears rolled down our cheeks, incapable of fighting back betrayal. Then, the kiss… The whole world disappeared in that moment, and there was nothing but our embrace sending out electricity through the vast void of space.
We broke ourselves apart, shaking from the intensity, yet mutually agreeing that we had to leave it go. We knew how he felt about her and, all details aside, we knew he could and would most likely kill us were he to find out. It put many established things at stake. So, we went about our business as if nothing had happened. The electricity between us was unbearable as we kept up the facade. I’ve never fought so desperately against my emotions, and my body.
Time whittled away at everything the way it does, ending the friendship (since he was indeed a dangerous type), their engagement, and everything but that gnawing feeling about her. She simply disappeared after they broke up. The only way to really find her was through details from him, and I couldn’t go there. Maybe something so powerful was best left alone but, who knows.
Here’s a fitting soundtrack to all my wonderful, delirious, and unbearably saccharine crushes (right down to the singer’s school boy crush potential): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U-gOTeXz-Eg&feature=related
I’ve got a huge crush on the girl who works in my local Fara, and it’s costing me a huge amount in the second-hand vinyls I inevitably have to buy when I go in to try and talk to her.
One reason these morning coffee crushes are so common is the documented phenomenon of our being more open to it in the mornings. Drivers on the road are more likely to check each other out first thing in the morning and to smile and wave suggestively at each other. Like the coffee-counter crushes, its because we’re both most hopeful and most confident in our own appearances early in the morning. We go out into the world dressed to impress, smelling good, and ready for anything. It’s subconscious, but that’s the reason that they happen early in the day more than at any other time.
My crush is inappropriate on 3 levels- relationship (I’m married), work, and age (he’s 26, that’s 16 years younger than me! 16!). I wish I could shake it and just be comfortable with him.