Lovefool

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I learned a radical lesson about myself years ago: the long and short of it is, physical attraction just isn’t enough for a gal like me. I thought I could be that person once upon a time but I really can’t be into you, if the formula doesn’t make sense.

So there was this man I crushed on. Truth be told I still have a mini crush on him and I’m proud to say it’s a healthy crush from afar now. (Sidebar: I really think it’s great to have crushes. They really are fun when you keep it light. This story is about me not keeping it light.) He was my dream man who exists in my real world, not the celebrity world. Do you understand how difficult it was to go through life knowing I actually knew him? Bananas. He was the man I compared all men to and this dude didn’t even know my made-up feelings for him existed (the first of many problems with my rational mind).

This crush was serious. Like, dreaming a little dream of-his M-on-mine-as-he-used-his-T-to-F-my-lights-out-while-his-Hs-roamed-the-plains-of-my-34Ds-before–I hit-him-with-a-F-before-he-even-thought-to-put-his-P-in-my-V-and-kept-his-damn D-out-of-my-B-and-cuddled-the-rest-of-the-night kind of serious.**

**LEGEND:
M – mouth
T – tongue
F – french
Hs – hands
F – fellatio
P – penis/peen
V – vagina
D – dick
B – bum/butt

My crush and I had a legitimate moment years ago and this is where I had my revelation, folks. A lot of us put stock in physical attraction. We see someone, we’re instantly lusting after them based what we see (IRL and online) and we build all these fantasies in a split-second about the possibilities with that person. But let me tell you something, when I stood face to face with my crush, my heart was beating a mile a minute. And would you believe he kissed me and…AND…nothing. No butterflies, no stars, no sparkles, no nothing. I was shocked. So I obviously tried again because something HAD to be wrong! *puts out hand to begin counting off reasons why I thought I was suffering from selective insanity* 1) He was gorgeous, 2) he had a career, 3)he was my dream man!  The problem, my dears, is I didn’t know this man. A connection between us didn’t exist because the man in my head simply went to the make-believe costume shop and bought a crush costume to trick me. Do you know how sobering it was to lock pouters with the person you’ve loved in your mind for years and there’s zero loin reaction!?!?!?  I felt broken. He could see something was up and I STRAIGHT-UP (now tell me, is it gonna be you and me forevah… Oh, oh, oh… AHHHH I DIGRESSED)  told him the deal because this opportunity would never knock again. I told him I felt nothing which was crazy because it was something I wanted to happen for so long. He sat me down so we could talk it out. 4-5 hours flew by and I found out SO much about this guy. Facts. Cold-hard truths. Things that made me forget about my fantasy. Something began to tingle… *single blink* 

It was the wee hours of the morning and he said he had a confession about HIS crush on me. I didn’t buy it. Hear this: he told me he’s been crushing on ME since the first time he saw me. This reeked of “things you tell a girl to get in her pants.” He recalled events we both attended (some of which I didn’t know he was there). He even remembered details about specific outfits I wore because my face probably read as: Yeah, right. I couldn’t believe it. A crush never crushes back – it seems mathematically impossible.

We called it a night (we did not sleep together), shared a cab and he absentmindedly held my hand as we were driven in silence. My whole body was humming from my fingertips to my tippy-toes. I turned to him and asked if we could try it one more time and he smiled that smile and gave me the simplest of kisses and FIREWORKS! EXPLOSIONS! ROUNDHOUSE KICKS!

Scientific evidence it finally happened. FINALLY!

As we all know, I’m single. It didn’t work out, obviously. But every failed attempt at a relationship is a learning experience, right? I didn’t know I was wired so rigidly that I couldn’t be one of those girls who sees a dude to be my conquest for a night. I can’t do it. This is a great personal discovery. It’s happened where situations ultimately turned into a one-night stand but not because I wanted it to; I legitimately thought I’d see them again. Seriously! In my baffling naiveté of staggering consistency, I find a bit of solace knowing my intentions are always good.

Fool me once, shame on you; fool me let’s-not-discuss-my-number, shame on me.

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