Here’s a post by Lady L. to round out the week. I’ll be taking a short hiatus from blogging to graduate (!) over the next several days, but then I’ll be back in full force!
A few weeks ago I was discussing my latest crush with a friend and his impressive ability to remain oblivious to my feelings. This dude was hot, smart, a little bit older and, most importantly in my book, a total Harry Potter nerd. We chatted, we flirted, all was well. This continued on through the course of the semester, and as the weeks passed it became rather apparent that he was going to be making no moves on me. I figured maybe he was shy, and hey, it’s the 21st century. I didn’t have to wait around for him to make a move on me, I’d just make a move on him! My friend and I sat down to talk strategy, and I jokingly suggested that my next move should be to construct a large billboard outside his house with his name and following slogan in foot high letters: It may have escaped your notice, but I am madly in like with you!
You will of course be shocked to hear that I did not follow through on Operation Blatant Billboard. I did give the dude my number, and he promptly did not call me. Crush (mostly) terminated. The whole situation got me to thinking though. I definitely did have a crush on this guy, as I had on many guys before him, but even in my most delusional of fantasies I only ever saw myself being “in like” with him. Now, I don’t know about you, but whenever I sit down to think about one of my dudes, I inevitably have to run through the list of all my dudes, reminiscing about the highlights (remember the one who carried me up the stairs?) and pitfalls (…then ignored me for a week?) of my many “relationships.” Sure, some of them were pretty great dudes, and yes I was really and truly into them, but I never more than liked them, and beyond that I never saw the potential for the big “L word”. Maybe this speaks to the quality of lads one finds at small liberal arts colleges, or maybe it speaks to what I’m looking for in a college romance. Even the dudes that stack up to my extensive criteria (funny, smart, not already dating someone…) seem just like fun interludes, ways to pass the time between my great high school love (an epic tale of two friends who dated and then broke up… and dated and then broke up… you get the picture) and the eventual knight in shining armor I expect to sweep me off my feet and carry me off into the sunset of equality and mutual respect.
This is not, however, to imply that the time I spent crushing on, wooing, “dating,” and getting over these dudes was at all a relaxed affair. A glance from them in the dining hall or a passing “hey!” were enough to make my head spin. One unanswered text found me pacing the halls and moaning about where it all went wrong. You would perhaps think, dear reader, that I should have taken the aforementioned lack of strong feelings for these dudes and translated that into a general chill-ness about our interactions. The self-preserving pragmatist in me agrees with you. The deeply sentimental romantic, however thinks that maybe that’s what these dudes are in my life for. The esteemed guest-blogger from two days ago put it best: “We don’t need men. We want them.” We want them, so why deny ourselves the fun of a new romance, or the deeply cathartic heartbreak of a lost one?
I may not have found my perfect dude yet, but I sure as hell have enjoyed the ride. Every new crush is an experiment in hyperbole, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.