Crushing the oppositions beneath my big black boots
There is something to be said about crushing. In fact there is so much you can say about it that I�m going to pretty much cover most of it.
I myself personally prefer using �crush, crushed or crushing� because it sounds a little less psychotic than �love at first sight�. Plus, love is one of those really, powerful four-letter words that I do my best not to utter out loud and throw into the same category for classification purposes, as racial slurs, the dreaded �c� word and grievous insults about any males manhood, mother or sexual orientation.
Besides, you can�t exactly go around declaring that you were madly in lust�err love�with every single person you were smitten with on a regular basis. This brings us full circle back to love. We, as humans, get older and declarations of love that were so easily dispensed in days of youthful indiscretions lessen with time. The sting and bite of giving up your love, admitting such to those that you want to return this love and then having your heart handed back o you on a platter tend to sour and limit the use of �love�. Time may heal all wounds, but as sure as fuck doesn�t keep us from remembering how unmerciful �she� was when she plunged the dagger into my chest or how little it effected �that one� was when she Indian Jones�d my ass, ripping my still beating heart from my ribcage and squeezing it, while laughing hysterically until it quit beating and turned the color of ash.
While my heart and the love it is capable of giving has been chopped into pieces and resembles a lump of mesquite charcoal instead of the cupid induced Valentine centerpiece it�s supposed to be, I for one, refuse to give up. An alternative method of loving, without actually loving, must be set in place, because the second I become incapable or no longer wish for the warm feelings of excitement when I first pine for the attention of a comely lass, or the way my face reddens when a vision of beauty catches me, entrances me and then actually looks my way; then you might as well put me down like a rabid raccoon. Here in lies the problem that requires the solution; how to love without loving (and drop the four letter word), but still get some sort of satisfaction while interacting with flesh and blood beings.
I say crush em. In addition to falling within the guidelines of the ultimate version of safe sex (i.e. no sex), you can also just make stuff up as you go. In a lot of cases it doesn�t actually require that you even talk to your crush interest. You can simply close your eyes and make them speak a certain way, customize their interests to suit your own and even dress them up in whatever you want them to wear. It�s sort of like having a real-life mentally produced Barbie doll, just with an actual body that is much more suitable for a human to have. The less you know about them, the better you are because you can make up your own answers to the endless number of questions you have always wanted someone to answer all correctly.
It is virtually risk free, with no out of pocket cost and no worries about your crush rejecting your already taxed heart.
Well I suppose it�s not ENTIRELY risk free. You could carry the crush a little too far and end up totally stalking the person and stealing their underwear and cutting off locks of hair while they sleep after you followed them home and broke into their residence. I also suppose you could spend so much time crushing that you become completely unaware of reality and end up getting lost in your own little world, resulting in mental maladies and disorders where voices whisper things to you from the depths of the darkness. And I guess this also could make you so out of touch with society that you become completely unable to interact with people on an even basic level, resulting in you never being actually able to love or express your love again without closing your eyes and rubbing yourself.
The secret to achieving balance and walking the fine line between having healthy crushes and become a recluse is fairly easy to achieve. It is a simply matter of changing crushes like articles of clothing and not getting too carried away with just one. Switching from the girl with the green eyes, to the cutey that plays video games isn�t much of a stretch. One day falling for long legs and the next for a nice rack; an English accent on Monday and an Austrian on Wednesday and going from an 18 year old in a catholic school girl skirt to a 30 something in a business suit is achieved with surprising ease. You can chase Lisa, Pamela, Angela, Marie, Amy or even Bob. Ok, well maybe not Bob, but you are getting the point now aren�t you?
Grant it, at some point, the need to feel the flesh you are wondering how soft it really is or to feel the flicker of a particular tongue against your own or even something as simple of baited breath exhaled slowly against your neck will force you to break through the crush bubble with a sledge hammer and reckless abandon. But always and constantly racing and chasing for something, nay, anyone to fill the void will shatter your soul, dissect your heart and leave you a burn-out silhouette of someone you used to be.
In the meantime, have a crush or two; hell, I�ll even return the favor if you like. Imagine I write such things about you or you or even�you�
So remember when I snuggle into bed at night, wrapped around the pillow that shares the empty side of the bed, I dismiss the fears and misgivings I have by mentally whisper sweat nothings into satin and chase my blues away caressing goose down, and I�m just fine, thank you very much. Remember; a pillow never complains come the rising sun that you drool, snore and mumble while you sleep.
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