I am obsessed with having a crush. In fact, I try to have a crush in most situations I find myself in: surveying the subway car, scanning the line at TSA, hoping for a meet-cute in the waiting room for jury duty, a crush is the perfect coping mechanism for my discomfort. I even have one currently :)
I don’t know if it’s the altered brain chemistry of a fresh infatuation: the rush of dopamine and spike in cortisol, the drop in serotonin… or if it’s the newness and excitement around the potential for something so earth-shatteringly real that keep me coming back for more. No one can hurt me so badly that I stop crushing.
It might be that I only have a crush every so often, I mean, the kind of all-consuming obsession where this person creeps into my dreams at night and the quietest parts of my day, isn’t easy to come by, thank God. Everytime I meet someone new who manages to wiggle their way into this unoccupied corner of my brain (or heart), it feels like striking gold. Generally, meeting anyone who ticks enough of my boxes can feel like that.
A new crush is enough reason to get out of bed in the morning. The sky is bluer, I shuffle my playlist and every song that comes on is now about my life. Every second is alive with possibility. The chance of potentially seeing that special someone means I’m prancing around the city like the woman I fought hard to be, in a knee length skirt and a kitten heel. I am the spitting image of femininity, and when I’m looking good, I’m feeling great. I can’t run into my crush in Dimes Sq. in the covid-era sweatsuit I occasionally still sport around my apartment, I’d rather die.
A new crush can also feel like death: yearning for someone who has no idea, looking for subtext behind every glance or exchange. Wanting to be chosen and fearing I may have never been seen as an option. Wanting to close the gap between the fantasy I've built in my head and the reality right in front of me, too often letting the risk outweigh the reward and swallowing my feelings. It’s humiliating to care this much. It’s even more humiliating to feel this way and do nothing about it.
I hope every crush I have is my last. That this is my person for forever. However, if that were ever the case, I wouldn’t have a crush of the week, I’d be married by now. A crush can only survive with enough naivety to feed it… or healthy communication and reciprocated feelings. Typically, the more I learn about someone, the lifespan of my crush on them decreases. The red flags pile up and become deal breakers. Cracks start to show, and the mirror they were holding up starts to look less and less attractive. Perhaps it was never them I wanted afterall, but the fantasy I projected onto them, and the idea that someone could enliven me, that I had something, or someone, to look forward to every day. After all, I am a hopeless romantic.
My latest crush of the week has been perfect so far. If I continue to play it cool and keep my distance maybe I won’t have to brace for impact when I inevitably find out he’s still in love with his ex, or is a serial cheater. One thing I do know for sure, having a crush is always worth it. Whether it gets the longevity it deserves, or fades away over a couple days, the excitement of liking someone far outweighs the spiral that comes along with it.