The Woes And Wonders Of Having A Crush

Lust is an all-consuming obsession that comes over us every once in a while when we meet someone who we can’t help but feel connected to. We all experience it and have for as long as we’ve known. Grade school crushes and college flings, work romances and mutual friends, and the desperate pining for someone you can’t help but feel romantically towards, allowing this feeling to perplex and shape-shift your entire life.

I personally find this state of mind both thrilling and exhausting. I am constantly replaying every moment with this person in my mind, repeatedly questioning if I said the right things, formulating new responses I should’ve replied with instead. I go to sleep playing these scenes in my head like an old cinema exhibiting a film before imagining hypothetical situations we could partake in together if things eventuate. I check my phone 19 times too many, waiting for a text to come through. And when nothing happens, I spend hours on my phone hoping and manifesting that soon, something will.

I create events and throw parties just to see this person under the guise of a fun Saturday night for the entire group and text them afterwards to say “Thanks for coming! I hope you had a great night!” I spend every interaction light-heartedly teasing them because it’s less forward than flirting and apparently banter works just as well, according to my friends. I doubt my entire existence and become insecure and self-conscious, wondering how I could ever be silly enough to think this person would like me. I find reasons to message them and send videos or jokes that relate to something we’ve discussed, and I refuse to respond to them for hours to make myself seem busy and highly sought after, texting back and forth every few hours like a delayed game of tennis. I remind them of something minuscule they’ve briefly mentioned in the past so they know I care, but I remember because I hold on to everything they’ve said. 

I study this person’s face, hands, arms when we speak. I memorize every single thing they say and flush red when it’s about me. I continuously curse the line between flirty and friendly and wonder which side I stand on and which side it is when they hold the door open for me. I try to slip impressive parts of my life into casual conversation so that they find me interesting. I ponder as I examine the mixed signals I perceive, wondering if our conversations are even reciprocal, noting how they rarely ask the questions while I seem to insert every topic.

I aim to be the life of the party and am exuberantly radiant so that they find me dazzling. I listen to their favorite songs and persuade myself to like it even when I’ve never really listened to rap but learn every lyric because they know it. I mold myself into who they want me to be so that they’re more inclined to spend time with me as if it’s some sort of trick or game. I lie in bed at night and cry because this person probably doesn’t like me, and I’m desperately lustful for someone who would never date someone like me. I journal about how this person makes me feel so light when in actuality, the heaviness and weight of such lust makes me feel like I can’t breathe when I’m around them.

Lust is an all-consuming obsession that poses as floating on cloud nine and a skipped heartbeat and the feeling of suffocation all in the name of a crush, and brilliantly, it is the first stage of falling in love.