I Have A Crush

So, I randomly stumbled upon this guy recently. Please tell me why I have been absolutely smitten by him ever since. I was just working away (minding my very own business) when I came across his name. Just his name. Nothing else. He had a really nice name that actually made me stop in my tracks and think, “Hmm. (Insert his name here). I like that.” I kept saying it to myself over and over again. It was like a symphony. Beautiful.

You see, I’m a complete weirdo. Often, I’m often attracted to a guy because of his name. I like nice voices/accents too. I could look at the same newish individual for weeks, even months, without thinking too much of them. They could be really funny, intelligent and attractive, but acknowledging those things might be the only effort I put into thinking about them. I might notice them, but not feel anything, you know? However, I could learn their name or finally hear them speak and suddenly find myself thrust into a hazy, rose-colored state of admiration.


Surprise, Surprise

Well, this guy had a name that actually made me raise a brow. It was so sophisticated sounding—dignified, even. I honestly think it’s one of the best names I’ve come across (weird, I know). Thoughtfully biting my lip, I initially shrugged it off. For some reason, I had convinced myself that he was surely an older gentleman with a wife and grown children…maybe even grandchildren. Usually, the men I see working in his profession are older.

However, I couldn’t manage to stop wondering about him. Who belonged to this amazing name? Instead of continuing to “mind my own business” I hopped on Google and pecked his name into the little box. Bam. Just like that, I had instant access to information on this mysterious individual with the intriguing name. I clicked somewhere…I don’t even remember where. His pictures popped up and my eyes fell out of my head. I mean, obviously they didn’t, but it felt as though they had. It was like I’d been slapped in the face.

Not only was he not a middle-aged man, he ended up being 30-ish and gorgeous. He seriously looked like the kind of guy I would sit around daydreaming about. He totally had the beautiful dark hair, light eyes…that whole thing. However, it was more than that. It was the way he dressed, the way he stood, the way he carried himself. I was done. So, one thing led to another and I ended up poking around (in a completely non-creepy way), checking out some of his work. I’m not going to lie. I was kind of blown away.


A Pointless Pursuit

Once I was done, I sighed a bit too loudly and flopped against my headboard in defeat. Why? Why is it that I never meet guys like this, I thought. Pfft. I threw my tablet across the bed in self-disgust, nearly hurling it off the edge onto the floor. I usually try to convince myself that I would have to be some wildly beautiful prodigy with a million and a half worthy achievements before being “good enough” to meet a guy like him:

Well educated.


Brilliantly talented.

Drop dead gorgeous.

And…then there’s me. I’m hardly ugly or drooling from the mouth like a mindless Neanderthal, but I just don’t know that a guy like him would find me to be all that appealing. I don’t make too much sense, in general. I mean, I’m kind of kooky and eclectic. Not everyone likes that. Most guys have a very specific type of woman that they like:

The well-groomed fashionista.

The plain Jane.

The rebel.

The girl next door.

The intellectual.

I’m all of these, but then none of these. I transcend most labels, so I usually settle for “weird” and forget about any wild imaginations I might have about ending up with the kind of guy I probably need to have in my life. It’s always in the back of my mind though…my idea of the “perfect” guy for me. So, when I saw this guy, it sort of reminded me of all the things I’d buried deep in my psyche and essentially, given up on finding.

I instantly wanted to know this guy, but figured that there was no point in thinking about it. He lives in London (rolling my eyes), which is all too convenient with it being my favorite city in the entire world. However, I’ll never meet that guy. I could wander around London’s streets for the rest of my life and never cross paths with him. Sure, the universe works in funny ways, but that would be downright hilarious. Besides, he’s probably taken already. I can’t imagine he’s single. And who says he likes women in the first place? But more importantly, I’m just me. Hardly exciting. And he’s…whoever he is.


There’s A Needle In A Haystack

That’s the thing. I don’t know him from Adam. He could be the worst human being alive, but somehow, I doubt that. I have always considered myself to be a very good judge of character. My initial impression of people is usually the right one, despite not always caring enough to follow my intuition. Even still, what makes this random person so special, anyway? I suppose it was the fact that I noticed him in the first place. Now that I’m older, I so rarely find anyone to be “my type”. I see attractive or interesting guys daily, but no one is ever “my type”. I don’t even know how to describe what “my type” consists of. I suppose, it’s just a feeling I get when I see them. Some people may think it is ridiculous or impossible to ascertain a person’s essence just by looking at them, but I beg to differ.

“My type” is simply whoever makes an impression on me and takes my breath away. It really has nothing to do with looks, similarities, hobbies or social background at all. Something about them has to be uniquely different from most people.

An exceptionally compassionate spirit.

An uncommon lack of ego.

A commitment to excellence in their chosen field.

I like talent, focus, ambition and artistic vision. I’m definitely not saying that there’s a blatant lack of these qualities out there in the world. It’s just that I tend to keep to myself a lot these days, so the opportunities to come across these types of individuals is limited. I keep saying that I’m going to make more of an effort to seek them out, but let’s be honest…I probably won’t.



The guy has Twitter. At first, I was like, “Should I follow him? Is that weird?” As though he’d actually notice me! He probably has thousands of followers—I needn’t be so stupid. And even if he did notice that I’d followed him, it’s not like the guy is a mind reader. However, I kept feeling as though he’d be able to tell that I was curious about him, so I immediately decided against it. I mean, I don’t want to be creepy or anything. Is it creepy? I would really like to follow his career, in general, but if it’s still creepy, never mind. Besides, it isn’t as though I would ever say anything to him. And even if I had the chance to speak to him, I’d probably choke on my own tongue and die of embarrassment. Ugh. I’m such a loser.

I feel like an absolute child. This totally brings me back to my elementary school days. Back then, all I had to do is write my crush a note, draw little hearts on it and give it to one of my friends (or an entire group of them) to deliver it for me. It was completely acceptable to send people to do your romantic dirty work for you in those days. Oh my gosh, could you imagine me trying to do that these days? It would be ridiculous to tell one of my friends to tweet him about me.

Realistically, is it even normal for adults to have crushes on random strangers? I mean, sure, they are interested in people, but should I be calling this an actual crush? It’s the only appropriate term though. When I simply ‘like’ a guy, I walk up to them and tell them. No problem. It’s only when I’m really impressed by them that I start giggling and stuttering uncontrollably like I’ve just had a lobotomy. He’s that kind of a guy.

Oh well.