Crush

I was about 6 years old when I got my first crush. He was a wiry little boy by the name of Michael Bell. He had a hi-top fade with three bars shaved into the side of his head. Michael had a deep molasses complexion and was missing his two front teeth. You couldn't help but zero in on the gap in the center of his smile. I was totally in love as were all the other first grade girls. I quickly became a part of the gaggle who swooned daily after him. He knew it, too. But at that time,  I was too young to let cockiness disenchant me. 


As I got older, I would try on crushes and relish them until, like lip gloss, the sparkle faded away. They only lasted a school year, give or take a holiday break or teacher conference days. Looking back, the objects of my affections were as different from each other as fire and ice. One year, it was a pudgy little boy who wore pride like cologne. Another year, it was a silver bespectacled gangly class clown. If I collected all my crushes together, I don't know if I'd find a common theme among them. Maybe it was something in their auras, something in their personalities that reached out and grabbed me. They weren't the perfect package but they had pieces of it. 


I eventually grew out my infatuations and graduated college, crush-free. (However, he's the exception. I think I'll be in love with him for as long as I live!)


With that said, I'm surprised to find myself, at the ripe old age of 25, dealing with a crush. It's a delicious problem. 


Easy is the word that comes to mind when I think of him. He's incredibly easy on the eyes. If my superficial teenage self were to build the perfect man, I do believe she would come up with him. 


His personality is easy.  He's remarkably smooth and fluid. I wouldn't be surprised if he takes a chill pill every morning with his orange juice.  


The only thing that's not easy is how to control myself when around him.  I monitor my voice, my movements, my words, and my actions closely when in close quarters with him. Then I grade myself when he's out of my presence. And I almost always fail. But, in spite of that, I'm always eager to try it again. 


So do crushes in your twenties linger, combust, or grow into something lasting? I don't know. Maybe I'll ask him about it...:)