Crushin’

My niece has a crush on a sensible church boy. I blame the Goblin King, Johnny Castle and one midnight shower for making me question her standards.

Photo by Nora Hutton on Unsplash

“Look at him,” my niece G said, proffering her phone at me.

“Isn’t he cute?”

G is crushing hard.

The object of her affection is Jesse, one of the boys from her church youth group.

I take a look at the picture. Wavy hair, big grin, outdoorsy by the looks of his surroundings. And no teenage acne, which is always a win.

“He’s cute,” I affirm.

“So what’s the deal with you two? Have you been dating?”

G sighs.

“Not really. We’ve been on a couple of walks, but he said he doesn’t have time for a girlfriend and wants to focus on his studies before he commits to someone seriously.”

I hate to tell you this Jesse, but if you don’t have time for a girlfriend in your teenage years, when your only real job is passing school (and I presume your mother is still cooking your meals and washing your socks), then I worry for your romantic future.

“But you could still keep it casual?” I say. “He must have to take a break from his books at some point?”

“It’s fine,” G says, in a wistful voice that sounds like she is anything but fine.

“I said I’ll wait for him.”

Oh, for the love of emotionally unavailable youth group boys.

At sixteen, G is the daughter everyone would hope for. Humble, devoted to the church and its teachings, and a general ray of sunshine to everyone around her. Plus she’s naturally gorgeous. I find myself getting grumpy that Jesse doesn’t seem to realize what he has sitting right in front of him.

It doesn’t get much better than G.

But I have to be careful what I say, because I’m fairly sure G’s parents would not be thrilled if she started taking relationship advice from someone like me; the rebel Aunt who hasn’t yet found her lifelong match and takes her clothes off in front of other people when darkness falls.

Still, I love a good crush.

My first was at 8 years of age. David Bowie in the Labyrinth. Although I didn’t know it was David Bowie at the time, I just knew him as Jareth, the Goblin King. And he wasn’t your typical tanned heartthrob. In fact with his pale blue, incredibly tight leggings (that part went completely over my head too at 8 years old), his wild bleached hair and drag queen makeup, he was lightyears away from being a poster pin-up.

But I was completely enthralled with the push-pull dynamic between him and Sarah. He built this strange, dangerous world around her but he also kept leaving doors open (literally and figuratively). He did terrible things but there was also something about him that felt secretly soft. He was mysterious. And definitely tortured. I loved those characteristics even at 8 years old, although I didn’t have the capacity to understand why. The idea of someone powerful and untouchable being completely undone by one girl.

Fast forward to my next crush, discovered at a sleepover when I was 12 years old. Back in those days we would have movie marathons all through the night. And the one that was played in the early hours of the morning when only a few of us remained awake, was Dirty Dancing.

Oh Johnny Castle.

I watched that one on repeat. The dancing moves and half naked body did a lot of the heavy lifting. But it wasn’t just that. He had that brooding, misunderstood thing going on too. And that’s dynamite for girls, the idea that we can see the goodness in a man that everyone else has written off. Underneath all the sharp edges and the guarded expression is someone loyal and devoted, someone who just needs the right girl to believe in him.

And hot. Did I say that already?

I’ve never really crushed on “regular men”.

My first boyfriend basically told me I was going out with him, and so, of course I obliged. The only time I have been completely swept off my feet by a man was in college. I was out with friends when I saw this guy across the room. Dark hair, slim frame, slightly brooding. Kind of giving Damon from The Vampire Diaries vibes (yes, another fantasy heartthrob), but with a slightly less chiseled jaw.

I had no idea who he was but I just had to be close to him. We hardly said two sentences to each other that night, but somehow ended up swimming in his friend’s pool and having a shower together afterwards. I can still remember the feeling of total adrenaline from doing something completely out of character. Our bodies slick with soapy water and longing. Pressed up against each other, dizzy with lust, the cool air from the bathroom window cutting through the heat just enough for me to realize how reckless I was being. And how little I cared. At the time, it was the most thrilling thing I had ever done.

Sometimes I wonder if those crushes did more harm than good. I’ve never really been drawn to ‘regular’ love. It’s always been charged. The impossible man, the tortured soul. The man who looks at you like you’re the one person in the world who gets him.

I hear this is not real life.

Real men have jobs and overbearing mothers and bad phone habits. They don’t usually build labyrinths to win you over. They don’t charge into the hotel dining room from staff quarters to defend your honor in front of your family. Even when they are brooding, half the time it is less “secretly wounded hero” and more “emotionally unavailable with poor communication skills.”

Still, I keep searching for that feeling. It’s probably inevitable that I eventually ended up working in the fantasy business. Stripping is a strange mirror. For a few songs, I become someone’s fantasy for the evening. Whatever version of desire they need me to be. I adapt as needed. I entertain without requiring anything of them in return (except their money, of course).

Maybe that’s why I understand the transaction so well. I know what it feels like to want the dream more than the reality. I know the pull of the imagined version inside your head.

And the thrill.

I definitely know the thrill.

So perhaps it’s a good thing that Jesse is sensible and wants to ensure he secure his future in chemical engineering. There’s a lot to be said for a solid, dependable man — even if they do sound slightly boring. And maybe a boy like him with long term prospects and preparation for the future ahead is exactly the kind of boy that G should be drawn to.

Of course, G would never end up in some strange boy’s swimming pool at midnight, then wander into the shower with him after barely exchanging two full sentences. She has far too much sense for that.

Still…

Is it bad that a small, probably terrible part of me thinks she’s missing out?

Thanks for reading, I look forward to continuing the conversation with you below.

I just hit 20 coffees — I can feel the caffeine rushing through my veins! Thank you — your support is genuinely what keeps this diary coming — https://ko-fi.com/alinarae