How to Crush Without Being Crushed

Nearly 15 years ago, right at the end of my first year of college, I met this wonderful girl.

We met at a very outdoorsy community service project my service group was working on. She was a friend of a friend and had spent most of the day trudging through the underbrush on the other side of the project site. It as right at the end of the day that I actually met her. Immediately, I was smitten.

That summer, I spent a whole lot of time hoping that she’d still be around when school started back up.

Sure enough, she was. Even better, she was living right down the hall from me.

Relatively quickly, we got to be pretty good friends.

We’d spend hours just sitting in her room talking. Every night we’d be there until she was just ready to doze off. And every night, as I left we would hug and smile and wish each other well.

I, of course, became even more smitten.

Then one night, in a rare flash of want overcoming sensibility, I kissed her after that last hug of the evening.

Without a doubt, she was a bit surprised.

I went to bed thinking things were OK.

The next day, and for about a year afterward, I would know differently.

A lot changed after that opportunistic meeting of lips. At first, she just became a little distant, more guarded around me. Then, as she moved off floor (for other reasons), she became a lot distant. For months she would barely acknowledge my existence. Not responding to e-mails or attempts to chat in public places.

Losing her like that was compounded by the collapse of my academic career and being frozen out by another friend of mine (who I also had quite the crush on, of course).

That was kind of a bad bit of time for me. What weighed on my most, though, was not knowing the “why” of it all.

I only had half the story. In and of itself, that’s not a problem. The problem came up when I tried to figure out the other half with nothing except that kiss to go on.

My mind spiraled into myriad things–she hated me, I disgusted her, somehow that kiss had been a breach of an unspoken platonic guarantee, it had destroyed the friendship and hurt her more than I ever wanted to.

All of it, I surmised, was my own fault.

Perhaps just as bad would have been if I had managed to be detached and blind enough to be able to say that none of it was my fault.

Very rarely do any of us have the full story. Our minds fill in the blanks as best they can, drawing on our fears and hopes. Filling in the blanks, however, does not mean we’ve guessed right or that we’re even close to the reality. More often than not, in retrospect, those wild imaginings make no more sense than your average Mad Libs story.

That’s something we all forget easily in the joy or pain of the moment.

Reality goes on with or without us being aware of it. Better to try to hold on and follow it than be rudely awakened by it later on down the road.

Eventually, about a year after that kiss, after a lot of dust had settled and many other things had changed, I caught up with her and we actually talked a little about what had gone on. Her side of the story wasn’t at all what I had expected it to be. No, I hadn’t offended her or scared her off. My (not completely unwelcome) advance had come hot on the heels of her life getting more complicated as she began to fall for people and other people began to announce their desire for her. So she pulled back and made hard choices.

None of that was my fault. It was the reality of the situation. And, up until that moment, there would have been no way for me to know that.

Communication is the linchpin of any relationship–romantic or otherwise. It’s the only way all involved can get the whole picture, the only way they can know more than half (or less) of the story.

If we remember that, it can help us keep those wild imaginings in their place. If we remember that, it can help us not get lost in the clouds or the abyss, so we can see more clearly and choose more wisely.

A few more years down the line, in a random conversation with some other friends about “the good old days” of that second year at college, I discovered that there was even more to the story than even she had told me. Not anything vitally important, mind you, but extra bits of context that made it easier to understand her confusion and need to pull away.

Just an extra added reminder that even when you think you’ve got the whole story, you probably still don’t.

Reality just keeps moving on, with or without you…

Tags: affection, college, friendship, stories

Most weekends, I head out with friends to a bar or a dance club. I go because I thoroughly enjoy it. It’s a chance to be social, a chance to meet new people and a chance to be reminded of things that are easy to forget between the week-day rush of work and the lull of time at home.

One thing that I’ve been reminded of more than a few times lately is that I was never properly socialized to really interact out on the dance floor.

Back in high school, when a lot of people were getting their groove on, I was still smarting from a crush gone bad from the previous three years. Dances brought with them a lot of bad memories. More importantly, I had more than secured my position as a social outcast among many of my peers. After a couple of snubs, I reserved myself to enjoying what I could by myself.

So, I never learned to dance, let alone dance with someone else. I was uncomfortable with my body in just about every way possible. I had convinced myself that everyone else must be equally uncomfortable with me.

In later years, that old habit of just being on my own would prove one of the hardest to break. I still find myself falling back into it.

Especially out on the dance floor.

For the past fifteen years or so, I’ve actively and passively studied how people interact with one another in numerous situations. When I’m out I can pick out a guy who’s interested in a certain girl at 20 paces. I can just as easily pick out a girl who’s trying to get a guy’s attention.

Except, of course, if that guy is me.

If it’s me, I’m blind and dumb until well after the fact. And, if by some miracle, a moment of clarity happens and I do realize it, I have no automatic reaction to rely on. Instead, I have to run through everything I know about interaction in my head and then pick the proper course of action.

Invariably, this misses that key moment when a move could be made.

Luckily, I’m not all that interested in making moves in the traditional sense. It still bothers me that I miss chances to meet new people, though. It bothers me even more that it’s a habit I haven’t been able to break.

We all have patterns we follow. As we grow, some of those patterns change on their own. Other patterns don’t change unless we recognize them and work to change them. Both parts of that can be terribly difficult.

A few weeks ago, while I was out at a local venue, bopping around to the music, a lovely young lady repeatedly moved back and forth through the space I was occupying. The first few times, I didn’t think anything of it at all. The next few times, I noticed that she kept glancing at me not just as she went by, but at other times when she was a short distance away.

Eventually, she was there in front of me, moving in a similar pattern to the sad excuse for “dancing” that I usual perpetrate upon the world. We smiled at one another. Laughed at the ridiculousness of what I was doing. Then she started in with some small talk.

And that’s where it all kind of fell apart.

See, aside from the lag time in realizing that someone may actually be interested in dancing with me there’s another part to that old habit of mine: I just don’t relate well to people I don’t know well in a dance-floor setting. Part of it is because it’s very difficult to hear some people with the music thump-thump-thumping along. Part of it is because I don’t know if they can hear me. And the bulk of it is just a plain old lack of experience back when my patterns were being formed.

She threw out some words with a sly grin. I answered them quickly and kind of dryly (because my brain was still thinking they were actual questions that needed answers and wanted those answers to be heard). There was an awkward pause or three. And she excused herself, never to bee seen again.

It wasn’t until much later that I fully realized just how much I had blown her off.

What would the correct response have been?

Well, for starters, I probably should have introduced myself at some point. That’s another thing I often forget to do. It comes from a lot of years when it didn’t make a difference who I was (at first because no one cared in a negative way–they didn’t really want much to do with me–then because no one cared in a positive way–they knew we’d run into one another again soon anyway).

Right there I sabotaged my chance to make a new friend.

Whether you’re looking for some “fun” or you’re “just” looking to meet new people, making some interaction habit–and breaking out of old habits that isolate you–is a major thing.

I’m getting better. Through looking back on interactions like the one above, I see where my shortcomings are. Through watching others go through similar motions, I see how it’s normally done. And, finally, thought putting myself back in similar situations (no matter how awkward I feel in them), I begin to break the old habit, little by little.

Since one of the key steps in fully realizing a grown up crush is making that leap from fantasy to reality–actually getting to know the object of your crush as a person–there’s no getting around some amount of social interaction.

To do that, some of us have a lot more bad habits to overcome than others.

But if we work at it, we can change for the better.

And our lives will be better for it.

Tags: dancing, interaction, meeting people, self confidence

The first Super Bowl party I was ever invited to happened when I was in high school.

The invitation itself was a surprise. The geniality of the other people there–people who generally didn’t have a lot to do with me in school–was even more surprising. I don’t remember who played, let alone who won the big game, but I remember having a good time.

I had a good time because there were different rules involved. Rules so different from what governed normal interactions in school that who I was didn’t make as much of a difference. It was a small group, most of whom I knew from other non-school venues (like church). It was at someone’s house (so there was no chance of uncontrolled viewing). And, perhaps above all else, it was the Super Bowl–one of those big-deal events that lends itself to the blurring of most lines of division (other than those among fans of the opposing teams, at least).

Every playing field has different rules. Those of the classroom were different from those of the lunchroom. Those of the school were different from those of the community in general. And those of the Super Bowl party were different from everything else.

The key to fitting in in different situations is to know the rules for that playing field and playing by them. I’m constantly reminded that it’s the second part of that key that makes the big difference. After all, I’ve known a lot of sets of rules for different situations for a long time. I just choose to not play by them sometimes.

Fitting in isn’t the important thing pop culture and politics try to tell us it is. Without a doubt, it can be useful and affirming. But it can also very easily become and end in and of itself. When that happens, personal growth becomes stunted and we stand the chance of losing ourselves in the name of our pursuit.

I agreed to go to that long-ago Super Bowl party for two reasons. First, it was being hosted by a girl I had a good sized crush on (not that rare of an occurrance). Second, she actually invited me (a rare thing back then). There were times I wanted desperately to fit in, this party was almost one of them.

Once at it, though, I learned that, because the rules were different, I didn’t have to make an effort to fit in.

Even though I didn’t make the connection at the time, looking back situations like that–ones where we don’t have to strain who we are in order to fit in–are the ones we should seek out most during our developing years. For me, that didn’t happen and I spent a good deal of time miserable and confused.

We’re all cut out to be good in different situations. It may take us some time to find those situations. And even when we find them, there may still be some work involved to smooth out the rough edges. Without question there will be places where you feel more at home and others where you won’t. Using that as a baseline guide, you can begin to figure yourself out.

It really is all a big game. And just like a professional athlete, we’re always learning the play book and making notes on the field conditions and the other teams. The difference between football and fitting in, though, is that with the latter everyone can come out a winner.

Why? Because when you really get down to it, we’re all on the same team.

Back in high school, very, very few people have any clue where they fit in. That’s why it’s so divisive. We were all lost and funbling around.

For a few hours, and with the help of a few pizzas and some wings, anyone can feel like they belong.

Once you’ve felt that once, you kind of spend the rest of your life trying to feel it gain.

And that is an attainable goal.

Tags: self-discovery, superbowl

May of this year marks fifteen years since my high school graduation.

As anyone who even casually reads here knows, high school played a large role in setting the groundwork for who I am now. That all became very clear to me when the ten year mark was rolling around and I got involved in the planning of that reunion.

Well, that plan didn’t quite execute and here we are five years later, trying again.

For me, high school sucked. A lot. I was obsessed with relationships I wouldn’t ever do anything about. I secured my space as a social outcast by refusing to play by the standard rules. And I had the youthful audacity to blame my unhappiness on the world at large instead of my own choices.

If it was such a horrible time, you may ask, then why do you want to relive it?

Why? Because I firmly believe that only by facing our own shortcomings of the past–only by learning from those mistakes and remembering the lessons learned way back when–can we fully be ourselves now.

Over the last year or so, as I went back through an old hand-written journal or two from those dark high school days of the early 90s, I was reminded of many things I had let slip through the cracks of depression. There were good times back then, I just chose to remember the bad ones. Without a doubt, that gave me fuel for change, but the change it created was flawed and had trouble sticking.

Most of those skewed memories involved relationships, be they pining, one-sided, romantic ones or vibrant platonic ones. In the past decade and a half I’ve come to terms with a lot of that and become a happier person because of it.

One of the greatest joys has been reconnecting with those old crushes and seeing how their lives have turned out. Talking with them about the “not-so-good old days” is empowering. I have a chance to finally tell them what I wanted to say all those years ago.

“You know, back in high school, I had a huge crush on you.” Or, “You were one of the few bright spots in those dark days, thank you.”

It’s empowering. Perhaps more importantly, it’s allowing me to clear up a lot of fog in my own head… allowing me to see just how far I’ve come.

And I’m not the only one who’s come a long way. Just about everyone I’ve spoken with from that long ago and far away land of High School has grown into themselves. Sure, some are happier than others, and some, unfortunately, have fallen on hard times they could never have imagined fifteen years ago, but on average things are good.

They’re all still pretty recognizable, though. If not in face and body, then in attitude and presentation. Some things don’t change much, it seems.

Our core self is prepped in those formative high school years. They are the last time we share a common setting with a large group of our peers. The last time we regularly interact with the people we grew up with.

Love it or hate it, there’s no denying it was an important time for each of us.

It’s where we learned the rules and consequences of social interaction. It’s where we first loved and lost.

Where we first began to be ourselves.

So, here I am, fifteen years out and still learning from the experiences of those four years.

I think we can all learn a lot by taking some time, every now and then, and looking back.

At the absolute least, it lets us know that, if we’ve made it this far, we can probably keep going a bit more.

Tags: firsts

Things are busy here in WithoutBeingCrushed.com-land. Between Christmas and today, I’ve already fallen into three or four new crushes.

And of those three or four, I’ve already taken the chance and pushed one or two of them ahead to the “trying to get to know her better” stage. That, of course, brings the whole process closer to the “attempting to date” arena, the point of “new friend” (where the crush transforms into that all-important lasting platonic relationship) or on to “no, really, she’s really not that awesome, we’ll just go our separate ways” land.

Those are really the three places every crush should head. While I personally prefer to acquire new friends over dating and meeting people who will just fall out of my life, I’m really game for any of those outcomes at the beginning.

The problem is, you can’t get to any of those places without taking a bit of a chance.

Taking that chance always involves a leap into the uncomfortable, it always involves the possibility of failure and it always involves what, on the surface, seems quite simple: just talking to her.

I’ve never been particularly good at that.

My nerves often get the best of me, my throat closes up, my tongue goes numb and my brain just freezes. More than once over the years, I’ve been able to do little more than squeak out a weak “hi” when face-to-face with the object of my irrational affection.

Looking back, the only times I used to do well with talking to women was when I did it accidentally or when I was in a totally self-destructive mood and didn’t care about the risk. More recently, I’ve tried to harness old lessons to ease the anxiety without being oblivious or seeking my own annihilation.

The trick, for me, is to be honest in my goals. All I really want is for that potential friendship to become something real. Any romance that may occur would be an extra added bonus. I’m not preoccupied by “gettin’ some” or any other typical male motives. Without those in the way, the blow to the ego from a rejection is a little bit less.

Why? Because first, I’m not putting myself on the line. A rejection of a non-sexual nature doesn’t assail any of the basic, animalistic desires that drive us all. Second, it allows me a psychological “out”–I can simply say “Well, she just misinterpreted what I was trying to do… she just thought I was another guy hitting on her.” That places any blame on the communication process and not either person, letting it be looked at much more objectively. And third, well, I fully realize that it’s not the end of the world if I don’t get another date or another friend. One and/or he other would be nice, but only if the other person is in to that idea, too.

With little to lose and everything to gain, I get an extra little boost that helps me overcome the innate random anxiety of taking that chance. The rest of that push comes from sheer force of will and knowing, from years of experience, that no matter what, the interaction to come has to be better than other interactions I’ve had.

The worst thing that usually happens is the attempt to strike up a conversation or to get to know her better gets read as a standard pick-up line or an attempt to bed her. It’s a bit difficult to not be read that way with every other guy she meets having those goals. A little persistence and a lot of honesty of intent can go a long way, though.