Crushes

I suffer from crushes constantly, irrepressibly, and against my will. Oh, they're usually fun for a time. For instance, Orlando Bloom is a current crush; and the cute mechanic who worked on my car at Ford is also a fond crush of mine. If you’ve got melting, puppy-dog eyes and a woman-eating-let’s-get-naked grin, I’m pretty much toast. But typically, after a certain amount of time, I don’t crush on certain people any more. They eventually get bumped from the play list like a Milli-Vanilli one-hit wonder.

Such is the topic of this blog, a one-hit wonder.

At the impressionable age of 14, I rebelled and joined the Baptist Church because the preacher’s sons were two years older than me and totally hot. (We can see my spirituality has always been in the right place.) Keith and Kevin. Beautiful blue eyes; ripped; and killer smiles. And mostly nice to a youngster two years their junior who so obviously had the hots for them—well, as nice as was possible for teenage boys could be at any rate. They moved straight to the top of Hellion’s Crush Play List. They mostly stayed there until I was 18 (though Keith was removed from the list when I was 16 and never made it back on—but that’s another blog.)

So at the top of my Crush Play List sat Kevin, the beautiful preacher’s son and nice to boot. And best of all, he remembered me. We’d occasionally run into each other—and he’d remember my name and such. (This was why he remained so high on the list. Kevin had Rock Star God status and I was a peon—to be remembered was a huge deal to me. Yes, I know, but I'm a dweeb. It's an unfortunate fact.)

I went to college and found new guys to put at the top of the play list. Kevin and I never ran into each other. All was good—because it’s tough crushing on a person. I don’t know about you, but when I get around someone I’m crushing on, the tripping heartbeat and the inability to form coherent sentences…well, it’s not good for the ego to feel like a complete ass in someone’s presence all the time. Kevin has never had the opportunity to meet the funny, witty, fun Hellion--only Hellion the Tongue-Tied Twit.

But Hellion, you say, you're older and wiser now...and we know damn well, you're funny. Funny you should say that--here's the point of the blog.

So I’m at the gym (I swear 90% of my stories start with these five words) and I’m on the elliptical—and on pops a commercial. One of those ones you know were locally made—it’s low-tech, cheesy, not impressive…and there is Kevin! In the commercial!

I suck in air, grasping the TV, gurgling and pointing at the screen. He looks the same—just as hot, unattainable, and flashing that killer smile. I move up on the articulate scale from gurgles to squeals that perhaps a hamster could have interpreted: “Look, Kevin is on TV! I had a crush on him in high school! I thought he was so hot!” Unfortunately my friend Holly is unable to speak hamster and simply thought I was having a heart attack.

“What? What? TV? Are you okay?”

Frustrated she could not interprete my clear joy and enthusiasm at seeing Kevin, I waved her off and stared at the screen, not wanting to miss a second of him. He's there with his wife (she’s pretty); and I thought, “Gosh, I’m glad he found someone. He’s so nice; I hope she’s nice.” And the commercial ended and I was very, very, very happy that this had not been a real life run-in since I’m pretty sure Kevin doesn’t speak hamster either…and I would really hate to hear these kiss-of-death words, “Hellion! You haven’t changed a bit!”

Then I had a post-commercial low of “You complete geek. A 30-second commercial and you’ve flashed back 15 years to Moronville (or perhaps Hamsterville.)” This low was complete with self-recriminations of “You’re still single” and thus “still a loser”, which I tried to stem off like an EMT trying to tourniquet an artery. Too late. (I swear, if I could put a muzzle on my Inner Critic, he’d be thrown in the dungeon never to see the light of day…but again, my Inner Critic is another blog.)

So do you have any crushes from your past that send you back to the 16-year-old you still are inside? Do you believe the happiest marriages are those with people you meet in your childhood? Did you ever like Milli Vanilli?