“If they were easy, they'd call them something else.”
Ah, the blissful brainfuck that is something new. You want to spend all your time with him: Outside World be damned, you’re on Love Leave. Your heart races when he just looks at you with that wry, handsome smile, you’ve spent more time than you’d be willing to admit staring at the one drunk photo you took together, and all you can see ahead is a future of Wide Open Possibility. But the road of a burgeoning, blossoming crush is marked by potholes – defense mechanisms, baggage and blindsidings, oh my! When you’re together, it’s wonderful but never enough to make you feel completely comfortable. You miss him even when you’re by his side because you know the moment you part, that’s when the uncertainty starts. The swinging pendulum of your self-esteem. The ache that lives in the space between. Whenever you haven’t heard from him you can’t help but wonder the worst. You worry, why hasn’t he called? Has he lost interest? He saw me wake up with black gunk in my eyes yesterday – what if he stopped thinking I was cute? Maybe I shouldn’t have invited him to my friend's wedding. I must have sounded clingy. Crap, why did I talk so much? He mu
st think I’m boring. Shit, well, if I'm gonna go down this path, I better get a bigger bowl of froyo. Misery loves fat pants. No wait, screw that, I'm gonna go for a long run. There's no better revenge than a great ass, right?
Because if you’re anything like me, before you even know anything one way or another, your defenses jump into the front seat – no one’s going to play a fool out of you! – and you start backing away. Resigning. Leaving him before he has a chance to leave you.
And just as you’ve reached the depths of your downward spiral (which only took about 3 hours to get to), your cell buzzes with an obliviously happy text, “Hi baby doll, can I take you out tonight?” and you can’t help but laugh at yourself. If only he knew what a crackhead you can be behind the scenes. Thank God oh God, he doesn’t! Well, unless you write a blog and he’s reading it right now…
So, you open your heart back up, hopped up again on happiness, sudden adulations of hope doing cannonballs inside you. It’s exhausting. Packing and unpacking your feelings. The mixture of missing and moving-on every time you’re apart.
But this, my friend, is the beauty and sorrow of a new crush. It’s a bitch of a thing, isn’t it? There’s a reason those butterflies dance in your chest – you have no fucking idea what’s going on – does he like me? do I still like him? – and it’s all part of the package, the thrill. But worry not, if he’s into you, he’s going through the same damn thing.