How to Crush Without Being Crushed

Having grown up on a steady diet of classic movies and old TV shows, I have been programmed to equate fireworks with kissing that special someone.

As a hopeless romantic (no matter how much I try to fight it), I am forever in search of that perfect classic moment.

Needless to say, I still haven’t quite found it.

Growing up, there would be two or three nights of fireworks in early July. If possible, I would try to make it to every one of those Fourth of July celebrations. Each had a flavor of its own and each held a certain promise of chance encounter that could lead, I always hoped, to that elusive concurrence of inner and outer fireworks.

There were the very local fireworks at the Beach (the very generic name for the relatively generic and long nondescript man-made lake at the center of my home subdivision of town). This was back before fireworks were illegal, so a good number of people would bring a good number of things you’d be hard-pressed to find in most places these days. There were pinwheels and roman candles, tons of sparklers and at least a gross of bottle rockets. In later years, as the laws changed, things got a little more professional (out of necessity), and never quite compared to that oh-so-rural charm of the early years.

July marked the definite beginning of the summer season in my little town. The fireworks at the Beach were the second big event where you could hope to run into all the seasonal residents, fresh in from New York City or other points south. Among that crowd were a handful of kids my age and among that handful, more than a couple who I long lusted after. They were summer crushes, but those fantasies returned year after year, well into high school.

The other set of local fireworks were the official town ones. They went on near the town center, launched from the end of a dock in another lake (this one distinctly natural and quirky in its own way). The state boat launch and the streets around the lake were always packed with people. Again, many summer residents would be there, people who had not been seen for nine long, cold, months. These being the official fireworks, there was also a greater chance of running into people from my school who lived outside of my little sub-division. Again, a plethora of crushes, seasonal and non.

Finally, there was the big set of fireworks. They happened at the race track. My family and I would usually go early and catch the last race or three. Sometimes, we’d put a couple of dollars down on a horse. I don’t think we ever won. I never paid much attention, I was always too busy looking for people I knew so I could have an excuse to detach myself from my family. Being located in the county center, this fireworks display brought in the largest number of people. Without fail, there would be people from my school there. Usually one or two of them would be girls I had crushes on.

Over the years, none of those nights yielded that fleeting perfect moment I was so hoping for. I would watch the dark shapes in the crowd, waiting for the bloom of the fireworks to illuminate the upturned faces. I would strain to discern who was who and hope–oh! would I hope–that one would be looking back at me.

If our eyes could only meet in that instant, I thought, the rest would fall into place…

Not once did anything even close to that happen. In fact, I think I ended up spending more Fourth of July fireworks displays alone than anything else.

All of that hoping, all of that anxiety and planning and preoccupation with those media-induced longings for impossible perfection blinded me to the more simple and available pleasures. All of that time I spent watching the crowd in the slow motion strobe, I missed the beauty that was providing that light. Every moment I spent thinking “I wonder if she’ll notice me here,” I missed the obvious solution of going over and just saying hello.

By the time I graduated high school, I almost despised fireworks.

But with time and new experiences, I got my priorities straight.

Since then, I have enjoyed many a Fourth of July extravaganza. Often surrounded by friends. On a rare occasion or two with a significant other. That perfect movie kiss moment never manifested, but that’s mostly because you can’t plan for a moment like that. It just has to happen.

Perfect moments do that–they just happen. That’s what makes them perfect. All the planning, hoping and tweaking in the world can’t create a true perfect moment. Perfection is a natural occurrence and, therefore, only occurs in fleeting, unexpected, measure. They come from the pre-existing beauty that we have accepted. They come from the genuine emotion we put out there and that is returned to us.

Perfect moments sneak up on us, with or without actual fireworks.

But when they do happen, those metaphorical fireworks, long ago co-opted and diluted by pop culture, are more glorious than any gunpowder and iron flash-bang ever launched.

Tags: holidays, introspection

When I was in high school, every year at about this time the business club would hand out a bunch of surveys in homeroom. Those would be collected and, when Valentine’s Day rolled around, for a couple of bucks you’d be able to pick up a “Computer Dating Fun” sheet from the school store in the cafeteria. That sheet would have on it ten names of school mates of the opposite sex, printed on the then state-of-the-art dot matrix printer of some out of state company. Each of those names, in descending order, was someone more or less compatible with you.

Most of the time, it was good for a laugh. Other times it was food for thought. For a year or two it was a source of phone numbers (I’m guessing that got discontinued as soon as someone complained or was only done accidentally to begin with).

Without fail, every year, I bought it.

When we’re teenagers we think we understand Love. We fall in it readily and pine for it and scream about it to the stars. With out hormone riddled bodies and still settling minds, we don’t realize how simple–and how complex–Love actually is.

Love isn’t something that’s quantifiable. Love isn’t something that’s even logical in many cases. Trying to reduce it to such cheapens it and gives us false understanding.

Love is tangled in our culture with Romance and Passion and any number of other things. Sometimes it gets so muddled that we mistake those other things for Love proper. Sometimes we believe that Love is one of those other things.

The truth is, there is one time in our lives when we have a full and complete understanding of Love. That time is from when we’re born until shortly before we begin to develop the ability to think coherently and communicate. That transition, from a state of being into a state of thinking forever alters our ability to understand Love.

Not that we ever stop trying.

Very often, though, we get caught up in the sidelines and pretenses.

We get stuck on the idea that the hot-burning Romance that matches with what we’ve seen in movies is what Love is supposed to be like. We forget that Love is an unconditional thing that more often smolders quietly, keeping us warm long into the darkest of our nights. A little stoking and those good oak embers can be brought to flame, giving light in the darkness as well as heat.

Not that Romance and Passion don’t have their place. Many a long-burning fire is list with the flash and bang of quick, bright burning. There has to be good fuel beneath that kindling. Without it, you just end up with cold, bitter ashes.

When things don’t go well–when that bright and shining relationship burns out and leaves us burned–we focus too long on those ashes. We get caught up on the fresh burns from playing in that so recently gone fire. We forget that it was fun while it lasted. We forget that there was no lasting foundation built before it was lit.

A good relationship is based on common ground. That’s what programs like the Computer Dating Fun lists I have from high school specialize in. It’s easy to find common ground (as long as people are mostly honest). In the fast-paced, high-pressure and ever-changing world we can forget that.

Let me say it again: A good relationship is based on common ground and it’s easy to find common ground.

That relationship, though, may not be at all the prototypical Romance fueled passion fest you’re hoping for. It  may end up being a long-lasting platonic Friendship (which most people don’t count as a kind of Love–it is).

It may not be what we want.

It may be what we need.

Romances come and go, more often than not. It’s the platonic relationships that can more readily endure. They’re the ones that can grow deep and open our eyes to the possibilities of the world around us.
It is those deep relationships, where Love is given and received with no strings attached, that opens the doors for the most important kind of Love. They can show us how to Love ourselves.
Before deep and lasting Romance can come our way, we have to first cultivate a deep Love of ourselves. Without that most basic foundation, that deepest layer of life-sustaining warmth, everything else is transitory. Sometimes, it takes a little outside spark to get that deep fire going. And just like any good fire, it needs to be fed a little every now and then.

Self-Love shouldn’t be confused with arrogance or a sense that you are perfect as you are. Instead, it should be a recognition of the potential that lies within you and a commitment to work toward realizing that potential. It’s not always easy to start and can often seem to sputter out, but it’s worth it.
That kind of fire can spark all sorts of other things.

Maybe even a real-life torrid romance like you see on TV. Maybe something better and more real.

If it was easy to have a long-lasting Romantic relationship, everyone would be doing it all the time. Without a doubt, they’re fun and gratifying. But we all know it takes more than just being comfortable with yourself and having some things in common with another person for Romance to kick in (let alone for it to last). There’s something extra–something ethereal and unquantifiable that makes it work. No one has found a way to reliably detect that before it happens.

Every type of flame has it’s place. Maybe all you want are those big, bright and quick Passion filled Romances. That’s fine, there are plenty of other people out there looking for that, too. As long as everyone involved is on the same when it comes to the terms of the relationship, party on.

Today is Valentine’s Day. A day we talk a lot about Love. The reality of it is, Love doesn’t actually have a lot to do with Valentine’s Day. Love’s what goes on during the rest of the year when we’re not talking about.

Love is what we do not what we say.

Anything less that living it gets us farther away from the heart of the fire.

Tags: holidays, love

For those not in a relationship (or in one that’s not quite fulfilling), the holidays can be a time when that very special depression rolls in and causes all sorts of havoc.

Even those like myself who are generally pretty content being single get twinges of the “What if”s and “Why not me?”s. Those of us who are also hopeless Romantics at heart have some extra special “fun” going on as our heads and hearts fight it out.

Some holidays are worse than others.

Thanksgiving is usually no big deal. Valentine’s Day inspires more spite than angst. Christmas brings with it a 50/50 split.

Then there’s New Year’s Eve.

New Year’s Eve brings with it a very specific kind of evil. It has been hyped for years as that Big Turning Point, a time where just a few minutes can set the tone for the entire year to come. And we won’t even talk about the introspection and review of the past year that we’re almost forced into doing.

All of those things can trigger intense Romantic cravings and set up all sorts of crush cascades.

For me, I’m not sure which are worse for those cravings: the years I spent New Year’s Eve alone with the TV or the ones I spent with friends (including, invariably, someone I was crushing on at the time).

We’ve been inundated with images of that Big New Year’s Eve Kiss that is supposed to happen at midnight. So often preceded by a walk along somewhere picturesque or, alternately, completely random and out of the blue. How that leads to the long night of talking (or, in the oh-so-romantic Cinderella-esque versions, the vanishing of that elusive other).

I’ve never had anything even vaguely like that happen (and I’d wager that most other people out there haven’t, either). Even when I was in a relationship, that New Year’s Eve moment never quite clicked. Sad to say, I really don’t remember much from the New Year’s that occurred when I was actually dating someone. (Rest assured, that’s more a reflection on me than it is on them.)

But what I do remember–and painfully so–are the years I spent longing for that moment. I remember how, one year after the festivities of the evening died down and the Twilight Zone marathon was running on the TV a bunch of us were dozing on the couch. Before long, I was the only one still awake. Inches away from me was one of my long time crushes. “If only she’d roll this way,” I though, “she would be in my arms.”

That thought persisted for a while. Today, it sings just as loud as it did then. She never did roll toward me, no matter how hard I willed it to be so.

Therein lies the difference between a crush (or the Romantic illusions we’re bathed in) and a real relationship.

The real relationship was what brought us out that night, it’s what allowed us to comfortably fall asleep on that couch together. It’s what kept me from actively doing anything that would jeopardize it. The real relationship is always the most important part.

That’s not to say that the Romance and the Crush don’t have their place. If it weren’t for that chance of Romance, would most of us get as excited–as high on anticipation and hope–as we do around New Year’s Eve?

And if it weren’t for the Crush… ah, if it weren’t for the Crush how would we know what those Romantic leanings could make us do. Even if it is only in our minds as Rod Serling takes us on strange adventures.

So, tell me, what’s your most memorable New Year’s Eve Romantic success or disaster?

Tags: holidays