Leave Me Alone, I Hate You

I love spring. More daylight hours, flowers blooming, anticipation of summer days ahead.

Spring has also long been the time of year I develop madly inappropriate crushes. Most of these love affairs existed entirely in my head.

March 2, 1985

I think I'm starting to like this really cute 7th grader, his name is Andy. He is really nice and funny and not too outgoing -- he's sort of the "serious" type. He sat by me on the bus to the tournament game. He is sooooo funny and cute. The other 7th graders were singing and driving us crazy! So we made all these jokes about them...There is one big flaw in my new romance - Tracey likes him too. She is such a slut jerk flirt sometimes. Just because Heather had a 7th grade guy, she has to get one. Ohhhh, that makes me so mad. Amy agrees with me about Tracey. Of course I didn't happen to mention to Amy that one of the major reasons I hate the idea that Tracey likes him is because I like him too!! I haven't told anyone (except you) and I don't plan to...unless of course Andy does like me!

p.s. - We won the game!

Crushes like this one are why I take personal exception to the industry that has evolved around the famous line "He's Just Not That Into You." What started out as a mediocre bit of dialogue in a forgettable episode of television somehow morphed into a self help book, a talk show, a big budget movie. I realize this means the writer must have tapped into some deeply shared panic that connects with the masses, but speaking solely for myself...I already knew.

I knew he wasn't that into me. Every boy, at every age, during every unrequited second of my romantic life. I knew.

The knowing manifested itself in different ways.

I spent a day helping a guy I liked move in the blistering summer heat. Afterward he thanked me, bought me lunch and commented on how much I looked like Eddie Vedder.

I knew.

After one too many pinot grigios at the company happy hour, I leaned in to my co-worker and whispered, "I feel like kissing you." He excused himself to go to the bathroom.

I knew.

I went on a date with a guy who decided half way through dinner that it would be fun to rate my personality on a scale of 1 -10. He gave me a 4.

I knew.

Even in 1985, I knew:

March 18, 1985

Remember how I said I was in love with Andy? I was wrong!! I was wrong about him in all areas. Well, maybe not all areas, the only real thing that makes me not like him is his enormous ego! He thinks he is romeo of the middle school. He needs a little humbling. I am not going to talk to him or really go out of my way to be friendly to him. Not that he will really care. Oh well, maybe things will get better, right now I feel sad -- but I'll get over it. (probably fast)

So there you go. Two weeks later, it was clear that the "romeo of the middle school" just wasn't that into me.

Two weeks. Two weeks spent walking casually by his locker, looking for him without looking. Two weeks of calling his home number and hanging up when he answered. Two weeks locked in my bedroom playing Crazy for You by Madonna and pretending to make out with him.

Two pretty damn good weeks, all things considered.

I've never forgotten how my younger sister described her feelings for the first boy she ever liked. "He gives me heart bumps," she said.

Let's face it, most of the great crushes in life won't end the way you hoped, but the imagination is one romantic place. And what's wrong with spending a little time among the possibilities and the heart bumps?

I say, embrace your unrealistic expectations. Imagine flirtation where it doesn't exist. Wonder what he's thinking, even when you kind of already know. Turn up the Madonna and become the love struck teenager inside you all over again.

Sure, in the end, he may not be that into you...but it's not all about him, is it?