As I work on my laptop, I sense a presence is near.
Butterflies carrying uzis wreak havoc on my insides while a perpetual sense of panic settles into every corner of my being. I shift in my seat and pray the copious amounts of Monster and coffee cancel out my already-racing heartbeat while I wait for the moment of truth. All oxygen escapes me and in walks the source of all my madness.
It’s not like he’s a model, or my soulmate, or even my type. But he’s funny and cute and for some reason my mind decided to flip its once platonic-perception of him into something much more inconvenient.
Yes, my friends, it is true. I have a crush.
Many people treasure this time of romantic limbo. Some go as far as to prefer “the thrill of the chase” over actual relationships. While I have recently joined this elite group of free-willies (no pun intended) I am by no means included in the specific sub-group of “happy chasers.”
Talking to people is never an issue for me. In fact, I am known to get in trouble for the plethora of shameless conversations I start and the occasional screaming at passersby about their impressively pleated khakis. But when I have a crush, all that changes.
My typical friendly/flirty conversation is suddenly paired with one or all of the following:
- Uncontrollable giggling
- SO. MUCH. BLUSHING.
- This weird scrunched up smile that I can’t control?
- Any variety of groaning or screaming when they leaves the room.
- Any mundane answer followed by aggressive physical contact.
- Example: Because it’s a Tuesday, I must VIOLENTLY SHAKE THEIR ARM.
Every sentence is followed by obnoxious schoolgirl behavior and a constant sense of nervous, stuttering chaos. My once mindless caps-lock texts are now read over and over again, their intentions analyzed and heavily questioned.
Friends can text friends to “GET YOUR SWEET BOOTY TO MY HOUSE SO WE CAN CELEBRATE IN HOLY MATRIMONY,” but potential suitors may find this text unsettling. If they actually respond, each letter is dripping with encrypted meanings, settling into my psyche like sand in a bathing suit after sitting on the beach.
It has come to the point where I’ve decided abandoning this emotional expedition at least ten times and it’s only been a week. Yet every time I throw up my white flag, he flashes me a smile that throws me right back into the depths of this fuckery. The chase is overrated and people who prefer it are either god-like extraverts or absolutely insane. But maybe I’m not the one to judge that.
The chase is fun when you know you’re going to win. What people forget is the part that comes afterwards and how wonderful it can be.
Relationships are about growing a friendship as well as a romantic connection; the chemistry between the two of you changing and developing as time passes. Doesn’t that sound nice? You know what doesn’t sound nice?
PUTTING IN EFFORT AND NOT KNOWING IF IT WILL PAY OFF. I FEEL DUMB AND THAT MAKES ME ANGRY. I WANT TO STOMP OUT ALL THE BUTTERFLIES AND PUNCH CUPID IN HIS STUPID, FAT FACE. I HATE THIS.
Long story short: Crushes suck and the chase is a lie. I will now step off my soap box and crawl back into the hole where I belong.