It's So Judy Blume

My friend killed my crush.

All I wanted was to mention it and have a laugh. Crushes are supposed to be fun and flirty little obsessions that we’re allowed to take back to an unashamed girlish state. I think it’s permitted to gossip about, giggle unconsciously at and blush at the mention of them from one friend to another.

But no, she started going on about how it could possibly work out between us. Bringing it into a forum that’s reality based is a no-no.

Now I’ve noticed that there are people talking about relationships in more luscious wording than I believe I can muster. Matter of fact, I saw a blog where a 15 year old fasionista appropriated on tights with more passion.

Wondering why I can’t think more long term instead of on fleeting emotions.
Is it because I know this place where you can unwittingly become consumed with thoughts of them instead of you, or maybe because a crush carries a smaller, safer definition in comparison to say, love, worship…those words involve feelings of rejection if they aren’t reciprocated.

Can we hang crushes like charms on a bracelet that jangle together as we walk around; to admire at random while focusing on other pursuits?

Lustfully Speaking

Why is it so hard to control your urgings?

And why does that sound like this is about to be an episode of Degrassi High?

You would think that at my age I wouldn’t be prone to overactive sweat glands.

But I am, or I have experienced that as of late. It’s embarrassing to say the least.

Worst part of all this is that it’s a friend, a much younger friend who I’m lusting after.
No, that’s too strong a word… he gives me butterflies in my stomach? No, that’s too romance novel.

I think I have a dreaded boy crush …and I’ve officially turned this into an 80’s movie monologue.

We have those awkward silences; I think we’re sharing long suggestive looks. Or maybe I’m just the perv staring at him too long.

But for two solid weeks I haven’t been about to turn off the dreams or stop getting flustered when we accidently touch. For the record the dreams are sweet in nature, we’re just hanging out and somewhere in near the end there’s a little kiss exchange.

But I wake up every morning thinking “For real! For Real, G! Get a grip.”

Unfortunately it seems the only grip my mind wants to get is one on him.

So I started concocting ways to burn him out of my mind.
Watch porn. Masturbate more?

Only now when I touch myself I hear cheesy base laden songs playing in the background. He’s there wearing his socks and boxers asking me if I need him to put more toner in my copier.

I’m now convinced that was the wrong way to go.

So…I’m going to try something different, anything but acknowledging that this is actually happening would be good.

I’ll keep you posted.