I'm such a giggler, but I only giggle when it's relative to my crushes.
I crush on everyone, pretty much, this is no secret. I think it connects me to a time where the only thing you had to be concerned over was whether said crush was crushing on you in return and to make sure you didn't make a complete arse out of yourself in the process of crushing.
I wasn't one of those eloquent girls. When I crushed it meant that I would wind up making a complete fool out of myself...
I would walk into walls... doors... trip over myself... I've been known to stutter or mutter something completely incomprehensible leaving the person being crushed on to wonder if my IQ were equivalent of a muddy puddle. I'm a dork, with emerging googly eyes and, dare I say, I think I have actually fluttered my eyelashes... that's incredibly pathetic, which would make sense that it would be something I would perform, because in this state I am uber pathetic.
Do I have issues with this odd self?
Nah. Not at all. It amazes me that despite 'growing up' and leading the life of a seeming "adult" that I can still find humor and silliness in something that is a crush.
A crush. It's hilarious. I have several friends who refuse to even use the word "crush" for it denotes some moronic adolescent who hasn't even discovered the proper use of her 'parts'. No, adults don't have "crushes". Tsk tsk, that is not for the 'mature' at heart.
I have crushes. I'm forever 12, forever the girl who wore braces against her will and forever the girl who makes the best gal-friend a guy could ever have.
It's a youthful process. What's wrong with having crushes? What's wrong with blowing bubbles because there's something magickal about the land that exists inside of it? What's wrong with giggling when your crush walks up to you, out of their own accord, and chats it up, even personalizing the 'connection' you have by giving you a nickname... ::giggle::
I would hate to be an adult that has no fun, that only exists to complain about the world around her and not enjoy the simple pleasures that bring a sense of amusement to her busy world.
With all of that being said, I was delightfully/childishly surprised when my crush contacted me the other day. Nothing spectacular occurred, there were no declarations of love for my fabulous self, but still, there was contact. I feel like I'm in 7th grade all over again...
I had a crush on this boy named Michael. He was in the Honor Society... in the 8th grade which of course added it's own appeal as the "older man"... and he was on the basketball team... my friends and I referred to him as #22, as that was his jersey number. Granted not a very clever way of trying to disguise who your crush is, but at the time we thought it was. We had a variety of nicknames for our crushes: Goofy, #22, Max, Elmer Fudd... and typing that out I see clearly why we were such dorks growing up.
But I digress, #22 was, in my memory of a 7th grader, simply yummy. I had a monster crush on him, and like any young girl at that awkward age, I'm pretty sure he didn't know I existed.
I walked into closed doors when seeing him... walls... my friends... tripped and dropped my books. I know no subtleties when having a crush. It's obvious from outer space -- even my husband has remarked that I can't hide it. I'm fortunate to have a spouse who doesn't get hung up over me drooling over someone aside from him.
I used to work in the office at school with my best friend at the time. Basically instead of going to homeroom, which we hated and had separate homerooms so this gave us both the option of not having to go as well as spend some extra time together because, let's face it, as kids that's all you want is more time with your friends.
Part of our duties was to deliver the absentee list to each of the 7th and 8th grade classes. My friend and I would split up the duty, not based on "you take the left corridor, I'll take the right"... no, it was based on which class held our current crush (or crushes) at the moment.
Mr. Palermo's history class was mine every day to deliver. That's where #22 had history. It was the last class down the left corridor from the office. It might as well have been Mars for as far as it seemed. I would feel confident up until I reached the classroom before his . That was also the "upperclass" corridor... which meant that I was having to deliver to the 8th graders who looked at me wondering if they ever looked that young.
It became fast knowledge that I had a crush on #22. The teacher took delight in batting his eyes to his student as I came in to deliver the absentee list, pretending to not notice my crush sitting in the front, and acting as though I were cool. Did this ever work out?
I walked into the door once. I dropped the teacher's pencils onto the floor. I couldn't find the teacher once who was standing behind me and said "boo" and I actually yelled and dropped the rest of the absentee lists that had yet to be delivered. He once actually locked the door to see if I would wait or simply leave it under the door (which I did). With time this became embarrassing, and in remembering it I wonder why I didn't just stop delivering to his classroom sooner. I did eventually do that, out of sheer horror that everyone knew. Although my friend once remarked that the teacher asked where the other girl who delivered the sheet was, asked what my name was and told her to tell me that he'd prefer if I delivered the list every morning. Sure... I was instant amusement, no need to add water.
No no, I'm not bitter... oddly it hasn't jaded me in continuing random crushes.
Tomorrow is another seemingly unplanned evening to go see my current crush. Will I be retarded when I see him? Probably. I've known him for a few years now... it took me at least 2 years to muster up the courage to say "hello" to him, and even then it was at least another year before it would come out sounding like an actual 'hello' and not like a toss between a frog and a deranged monkey on acid.
Ah, to be 12 again, hopelessly crushing on a cute boy. Although this time... he knows my name ;)