I have a crush on this guy in my office and it makes me feel like I’m 15 years old. Maybe younger. Maybe more similar to the first time I realized what a crush meant to me. When I noticed my stomach constricting on sight. How normal “hi’s” and “how’s it going’s” seemed to choke and trip on themselves on their way out. How I’d start to quickly overheat and worry what I was supposed to do or say next. While I have to remember that I’m in my twenties and crushes shouldn’t feel like a heart attack on the rise, I try to revel in the exciting moment that it’s happening and that I still do have emotions that drive me. 25 me and 15 year old me, are not so different afterall.
It’s a soothing reminder that no matter my age, I can still manage to revert so quickly to the points in life that make me FEEL. That I’m not as jaded as I so often assume. What it is about this particular boy, I can’t quite pinpoint. It just happened with a look. A look and I was in swoon-heaven. To start, it could be he quickly forayed into an honest rapport far sooner than normal people would. Seems like it always takes a few tries before people get into the heart and soul of a conversation, after glazing over the usual suspects of “where you’re from’s” and “what do you do for a living’s.” At least we have that part in common.
Open and philosophical conversations aren’t very easy for me to come across with people I just met, but when it happens I jump over the moon very quickly. This particular conversation happened to be about life and what makes a person the happiest. We exchanged stories of what cities felt most like home. And how the perfect few weeks away from the world seems to carry the most relevance and resurgence of what it means to be alive. It felt like we were meant to be in this spot, to have these conversations with each other, and to enjoy these moments together. As we talked, my fantasies took me to another place where he joined me on our own adventures that I often crave. He was painting an enviable picture of his times on the road, acting on impulses and surviving solely on gas station food and spontaneity. Things in my heart I feel like I’m still destined to do.
He has an endearing smile. A confidence that is so muted, I’m not sure it’s aware of it’s existence. The inability to tell if he’s being nice or truly interested is a curiosity so befuddling, it makes him even more adorable. Most importantly, he has honest eyes, and is a transplant to LA from a farm town, that to an LA native always sounds like folklore. Someone who certainly is a going to be a prize for someone else.
The conversations just kept going. On a train of their own. And when it was time to leave for the night. I felt my heart sink. Our time was over, but worth while. Soon we’d just be passerbys in the halls. Saying our “hi’s” and “how are you’s,” only half paying attention, while replying with short, meaningless one-liners. My crush would linger, but only stand the test of the length of a first degree burn. Slowly dissipating with each day. To be upset would be a regret not worth having. A crush is meant to be wrapped in, and depending on the case, moved into something more. Pounced upon and dedicated to. That’s not what this was going to be. I would hold onto it as a memory worth revisiting from time to time. The time my co-worker reminded me there were people out there worth meeting. Worth getting to know for even a short moment. Someone to cleanse my palate of sordid relationships and heavy hearts. Someone who could debunk my girlfriend’s hypotheses about the great drought of single men in LA.
I would be lying if I didn’t admit to the simple fact that crushes are, in part, about confirming I’m still worth wanting. That someone else out there might have an office crush on me too. Because we live in a vain world, and I am as narcissistic as the rest. I want to be liked and loved and everything in between. If not, I worry if I have a purpose. If I have a real need to be here. What I crave is new personable discoveries. Those moments where two people click instantaneously. I guess I’m a crush junky if you will. Even the small prick of a crush can sedate me for a few months. Letting me float in a solitary bliss that not even the harshness of reality couldn’t bring me down from.