Demonstrating how I know the difference

It's smaller than a mini-crush, and way less significant than a real crush. In fact, it hardly qualifies because of the short time it impacts your life. In that time, it's nice.

With me, it kind of reassures me that I still function in that way, because sometimes I wonder. You see, I don't get real crushes. I hear lots of people talk about them and how wonderful they can be, but I haven't had one in several years.

On the other hand, there's this microcrush. It's... weird. I don't pine for this person when he's not around, but when he is around, I think he's nifty; some teeny tiny corner of my backbrain entertains *sigh* you're so cool! thoughts very briefly. The whole thing makes me happy; I'm sure Microcrush has no idea he's such an object, and I'd never let him know directly, although he's the sort of person to whom you could really say anything and he'd take it in stride. If he thought you were a lunatic for such remarks, he'd never let you know that.

The great thing about microcrushes is that there can be no negative outcome: there's no hurt involved, just the unabashed enjoyment of somebody.

Now that I put it that way, I'm sure he does know. That's fine with me, it's just that I'd never say it. That's never been my way. The only reason I mention the microcrush here is that I very recently admitted that it existed. It's entirely possible that I'm the last to know; I'm pretty transparent about such things.

I was remembering, just a second ago, my very first crush in high school. This was my freshman year, he was a junior. I met him in the library one afternoon. He had a study period when I had World History and I often spent that hour, the seventh, in the library reading.

His name was Bret. He had crystal blue eyes and straight brown hair; rather sharp features. I don't think it was his look that attracted me to him, though; he had an engaging manner and a great sense of humor. He was also very well-liked in school, and I was flattered that he was nice to me.

We spent a lot of time talking to each other, though I couldn't recount a single exchange now. Mostly I would listen and daydream.

He knew, of course. It wasn't hard to figure out. I was tounge-tied in the way that only a high-school girl with a crush in the presence of her object can be. For weeks, I walked on air wondering what it would be like if he were my boyfriend. When I realized that he knew about the crush, I was quite deflated. I still remember the physical sensation that went along with that: an instant awareness of every cell in my body followed by a lonely chill, as if some of the cells had died of shame. Once the crush was hopeless, it became a burden that I eventually cast off.

I have no idea what happened to Bret; he graduated and moved to France. I always thought I'd hear of him again, but I never have. I do hope that he's well and happy, and that life has rewarded him for being nice to an awkward young girl when he didn't have to do it.

For myself, I hope I will reflect on Microcrush 20 years hence and have the same feelings.

before - after