A Crush is better than a relationship

"... I asked him what it was like to love someone from afar as he did, whether it was enough. 'It is heavenly, and shouldn't the heavenly be enough?'"


Dear,
Yes, I knew you were attracted to me, I just managed to ignore it. It would not be useful, at any level, to pursue.

I'm older than you are. You have that ease of freshness and youth and breezing through a charmed life that always tastes like magic to me. A boy, in the way that boys are attractive to me, and men aren't. I know the pain an impulsive choice could lead to. Would lead to.

Yes, I knew you wanted me. I knew that you would not make any move toward me. I knew that if anyone would cross that electrical divide, it would be me. But I would not. I will not. I touched your hand, once, and a spark jumped across. That's when I knew our poses, relaxed and friendly, were just poses.

In my imagination, those hands started to touch me. Just snuck across the divide, and stroked my arm. And we both pretended it wasn't happening, and kept chatting, with most of our senses focussed on that hand. My skin tingles, even thinking about it now.

But then my hand reached over, and wove it's own fingers into yours. That's when we stopped talking, and eyes took over. So blue, like falling into the sky in a wheat field. Then I reached across and touched your hair. Those curls, so different from my own straight darkness, I want to rub my face in those curls.

I won't write the rest of the story here. But yes, I knew. And I know, and you will never, how many times this has replayed in my head. I get a lot of mileage out of fantasy, now, since that's mostly where my love life lives. I don't mind a lot of the time, I'm not sure I have time for a lover. I would want time for you.

I would want so much time, freedom, emancipation from all the cares that weigh me down.Time to stay up late, letting our minds wander where they will. Time for silly word play, sharing the flavor of the language that we love to mess with. Time to grin at each other's sillyness, and yes, I would cook you dinner. I would cook you many dinners. I want that time. Time, which so often feels like there is much too little of.

You are a dreamer. I see those dreams leap out of you, so many. You remind me of myself. I want to see you make those dreams come true. I want to be a part of making them come true, and I can, but not in the way that I want. Or that, at least at this moment, that I want.

This then, is a crush. I call it that, knowing it is more, but that is all I will name it. A crush. It will pass, with all likelyhood. But for now I will enjoy the flush, the flow of energy, the spark it adds to my day. A glint in my eye, a rosy cheek, a flush rising over my breastbone as I think about you. About your hands.

About your hand, that I touched. Once.