kaet@rachacha.com
June 10, 2007

When you move from a small city to a large city, your perspectives on many things change. Up becomes down, large becomes small, and the small city is on a miniature scale to that of a full model of a large city. Quantities and complexities also change to a grander scale as well. In Rochester, I might have a crush or two... the bartender at my favorite bar, who I think also, was into me but I was too afraid to let anything happen. I was always afraid of things happening in Rochester, not so much in New York. In New York, I counted it, Saturday, and I have fifteen, yes, fifteen different crushes. Don't imagine I'm sitting around on a barstool going, "boys boys boys, there's only one of me and so many of you, I just can't decide." In reality they are varying crushes for very different reasons.

A crush is derived from relationship ideals and/or flirting realisms. With some, you imagine relationships, and take bits and pieces of what you know and you imagine about the person as a prospective boyfriend. (Author's note: this is not the same as being starstruck, that's in it's own field of admiration.) With others, you match in chemistry and get along well with this person but think maybe it won't go anywhere. Somewhere in the middle with a select few can be both and that's where I think a relationship can probably spring from: friendship and deep seeded attraction that cannot be broken. Without both there cannot be a conclusive end point to that of the crush, this why the crush and only the crush exists.

In the relationship ideal realm of things I have three solid crushes. The first I liked because he was cute and nerdy. He smells good and is polite. The second likes my writing and that, well, elevates my ego very high up. He's talented and is very warm. The third is just steamy. He's a bad boy and cynically funny. My ideals are as such; I like the first one because I like who I am when around what I think he is. The second one supports what already consumes me: my writing. And the third, well at times, is a macho version of myself. The ideal is within the ego, you (or in this case, I) like this person because they represent something about yourself, of who want to be or who you already are. Unfortunately, these types of crushes are not useful in anyway. You end up getting devastated over a stupid pat on the back. It becomes a catch twenty-two because while it helps you understand what you may or may not want out of a companion, fueling your ego, it ends up delivering blow after blow to your ego.

In the flirting realm, the other twelve some how mash up in here for various reasons. Number one and I met randomly one day, became friends, and I think he likes me. Number two works at the place I get Polaroids, and is one of very few non-Hassidic Jews; he's also a bad boy. Crushes three through six are customers of mine, most with girlfriends. Crushes seven through nine, I work with. And crushes ten through twelve are cute boy crushes that I have nothing but girly, non-sexual feelings for (comedians who I think are cute but not flirt-worthy for various reasons). Everything here is based on platonic equalmanship. I read somewhere that flirting, in it's heyday were two people matching each other in wit to see if each was worthy of the other without expectation of a conclusive end but still admiring the effort that took place. It's harmless in all aspects and is very good for your ego.

Sure, I sound a little Fatal Attraction, but this is not my intent; I'm just being honest. However, both aspects of the different crushes are a waste of time as thrilling as it may be. They both go nowhere as much as it delivers some insight on you to a degree. I can assure you all there will be no midnight phone calls, no late night rendezvous and certainly no boiling bunnies because "I will not be ignored, Dan." All crushes will remain crushes because there is no equality between the reality and the ideal of the situation. I know this much, if there is a guy out there who smells good, likes my writing and is kind of a bad boy (and not obnoxiously needy or wallowing in old man behavior), please give me a call, maybe we could get a burger and make fun of people together.