There is a man in my office I quite like. He is new and channelling this nerd chic which has my heart all aflutter – big glasses and black brogues – and I have a crush on him. But my crush as an adult (on this man and all the other people I have lusted for over my adult life) is so very different to my crushes when I was younger. Because I guarantee that within a week I will have forgotten about this him as someone I used to fancy.
When I was a teenager that would never happen. I could never do the whole Mrs Rosh Random Man’s Name in my notebook with hearts everywhere because I wasn’t American when younger, but I had the dreaming, the endless dreaming, down pat. Crushes were this hopeful state of things before they were realised (either with rejection or a date) and I could dream about this person to my heart’s content, fashioning incredibly crazy lives for the two of us without a smidgen of reality thrown in.
And they lasted for such a long time. At least I remember that being the case. Cut to now where last week I mentioned to Friend that I thought person x was very good looking and had an utter blank when that same friend asked me about him mere days later. I couldn’t remember who he was and in the space of a week even his features had started to melt away. I genuinely wonder why this is, why crushes aren’t so important to me anymore.
I still have that initial phase of crazy world building with the person, at least I did with Nerd Chic, and most of them rested on me magically getting the courage to ask him out to dinner and what conversation at dinner would be (about running and books), rather than anything else. It’s as if my crushes and my expectation from my crushes are now grounded in a healthy dose of reality mixed with my ever increasing lack of long term attention. The fact that I made Nerd Chic laugh this morning will feed the crush for a little while longer but it won’t sustain me like it would have if I was a teenager.
Right now, at this very moment I am still hoping I can gird my loins and ask him out. This time next week I probably won’t even remember this feeling or desire unless I actually did the metaphorical girding and the literal asking. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Should I be lusting after him for a lot longer, channelling my inner young adult who was able to hold onto things like this (in one case) for years? I have to say it doesn’t sound appealing at all. But then I don’t think I like my whole forgetting about them in a week either is all that preferable.
So I set a challenge to myself: let’s see if I still fancy this man after Christmas. That’s a lot of days; may the force be with me.