The thing about crushes is that they hang in the air of your mind - sometimes like a sweet perfume that fills your days with happy thoughts, and other times like a maddening stench that you would irradicate if you only knew how. The former is likely when you are in the throes of early crush-hood, the latter is common many months later when the reality that he's an unobservant moron begins to emerge.
Everyone knows that I have been nurturing a long-term crush this year. The very extent of its length shows the futility of it all - but I can never completely "surrender the fantasy". The interesting thing about this year's crush is how it differs from previous ones. I have made a distinct departure from - what Nat would call - my attraction to cocky assholes.
Further, I seem to have stumbled upon an attraction trend that favours general good-guy-ness, decent values, humour, and the aura of being really nice to wake up to. Much of the lustiness is gone - being reserved for lust-objects rather than crushes. The haute couture grooming standards are less relevant - I still notice, but do not recoil at footware. The crush is now about being a reasonably manly-man (in either tshirts or ties) who loves his family, has life-long friends, knows how to make you laugh, is articulate and is involved in a world of interests of which he speaks passionately. And a cheeky smile, bright eyes, and huggable-ness are brilliant accessories.
So in my new understanding, I present my new poster-boy of crush-ness. He has always caught my eye but often in passing at it moved on to hotter properties. But really, this man is a catch in the true sense of the word. In a real sense of the word. And, go figure, he's single.
his crushworthiness: Jeremy Piven
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