When I was in highschool I had a crush on a guy I couldn't stand
yeah, you read that right
I mean, he wasn't horrible or anything...he was reasonably attractive in a conservative white boy way (very much not my type at the time), intelligent, probably kind to animals
but he was also a real ass...and a pain in my ass
because he had a crush on me too
I know this. I saw him drawing sketches of me once and he'd find frustrating ways to pick on me and point out how sad my geekiness was and would make fun of me for being so cold to him and was fond of yelling loudly, whenever I made the slightest effort towards my appearance (ie, not wearing boxers and vneck tshirts as outrwear) "MY, you clean up good Ms S!" as I would walk into the room. This, obviously, caused me to blush hotly and run to my seat, then spend the next half an hour writing about how much I hated him in my journal as I grinned to myself.
It was horrible. I would gaze at his stupid haircut, try to make eye contact with those mocking eyes, secretly find ways to be near him so he could follow me through the parking lot, mocking me for having so few friends and for being the smartest girl in class (somehow not a compliment in those days) and belittling my boots and calling me a munchkin and shorty and how did my little legs carry me home? before he would offer me a ride and I would refuse.
I mean, dude, I wasn't going to be caught dead with that guy. Hell no.
And I certainly would have never told my friends.
But still, the crush persisted. I would have mild sexual fantasies followed by long bouts of shame.
Why? Why had I been afflected with THIS crush?
To this day I don't know what it ws..maybe it's just the weird wonderful cruel world of sexual chemistry. Maybe it was just one permutation of a history I admittedly have in competitive and charged relationships, in the beauitufl world of opposites attract. But sometimes I wonder about that crush. And about myself. And whether I am a complete lunatic.
But not too often.