The nice thing about crushes is that they end. After this wonderful, terrifying emotional roller coaster of angst, misery, and that all-too-necessary brain-frying oxytocin, it can slide to a gentle stop of bemused comfort.
That’s the main difference, I think of crushes when you are 14, vs in your forties. That and the mute button.
The reality is that I have very little in common with this person. At least, not as far as I’ve seen. And, because of the 10 rules I promised myself I’d never break when I left my ex, I know this person doesn’t meet a handful. So I got the high of feeling like a damned grinning fool without the slam-stop of humiliation at the end.
I can enjoy the thought of how sunlight hits his eyes, without remembering the cranky bitchiness of impatience.
I lived with that impatience before. In both of my last two exes and dealt with that flaw in several family members or friends. It made me miserable. I won’t do it again. There isn’t anything in the world that is worth living with that poisonous negativity. It makes my own flaws harder to deal with, on top of that. I let other people’s selfishness suck me further down into the garlic juice.
There is so much beauty all around us. I think that’s half of why I constantly thought there was something wrong with me. Because I didn’t have a body type that sent my hormones over the moon. So what if someone has a hawk nose? They could have the most gorgeous blue eyes, or a face full of wrinkles that lights up when they laugh, or long, thin fingers that are so graceful, you could picture butterflies landing on them. If you choose to see only flaws and ugliness in people, well… then that’s all you’ll ever see.
I think that’s also why I was able to deal with the rapes and beatings. I’ve lost friends who think I should hate all men because of it. I can’t. Not saying it was cool, what I had to deal with. Not once. “Lost” may not be the right word, there, either. Because I can’t fathom pushing anyone into hating anything on a broad basis. Except, maybe, mosquitoes. And fleas.
I don’t think men or women can be categorized into A/B. Ever. Because part of my frustration from this summer was dealing with a bunch of men who were the biggest gossips. Image conscious. Touchy. As bad as any bunch of teenage girl cheerleaders who are vying for the homecoming crown.
The thing is, I met some of this group who are the best sort. Diamonds, rough cut, with smiles, sense of humor, jokes, hard-working, and the biggest hearts you could possibly imagine. People I could see setting down with at the end of the day and shooting the shit over a campfire. The bullshit would be mostly tall tales and aggrandized stories that everyone knows are half-fluff and love just because of that.
How could I ever hate so much that I would miss out on that beauty? I get tired of hearing women bitch about “men.” As though being male is wrong. It isn’t. Stop playing victim. Leave that to people who truly are, and stop dragging survivors of actual assault and abuse down into your claptrap. I’ve dated pianists and construction workers, chemists and military. And there has been beauty in each and every single one.
What’s nice about this crush is that I actually got tongue-tied. More than once. It’s nice to know my numbness has receded enough. It’s made me more aware of what I do want out of life. That slow, quiet, fun lifestyle that I’ve been building for the past six years. Sitting at the end of the work day with an audiobook, with my candle fire going over the tv, with my cats chasing their tails, and me with my sewing. Or blowing the stink of boiling red cabbage out the window, because I needed to make new pH strips. Or finding a new way to make corn seed sprout. All the things I can do and get into trouble with, without the impatience of a cranky, self-serving, critical voice constantly picking at me or my projects. Just… beauty.
And, after joking with Jana yesterday, my next one will be to learn how to make walnut butter, so I can make walnut butter cookies…. MMMmmmmm… My kitchen’s going to turn into an absolute mess!