Okay so this is where I talk about myself indulgently.
What are the odds?
No truly, what are the bleeding odds that you have a string of young admirers that you didn’t even know about? [okaaaaay maybe not a string… just one’s good eeeenuffff] Just when you were beginning to think that you’d reached that point when people of the opposite sex just seem to see you as this gangling, funny, androgynous, arsey girl-woman, and you begin to believe that there’s no hope for you, because every other girl half your farkin' age seems to know how to play her sexuality, and you’re such a frump in comparison… just then, little things come your way and tell you… you’re not so hopeless.
A week ago, my work-partner U, and I shot a tiny little promotional film at a hip B-School campus. Well U directed, and I hung around making sure everything went right, from approving shots, to pulling up lazy light boys and sorting occasional flare-ups and making sure everybody was sufficiently fed etc… basically I was the on-location production pimp.
Part of my job was also to make sure we had a healthy circulation of college kids on camera, so a large chunk of my time was taken up in walking into classrooms, libraries, the cafeteria etc… surveying the said territory like a feudal lord and picking out faces. Man, did I feel like a total leery-eyed dominatrix doing that. “You you and you…Outside. Now.” [zzzztachhh *cracking whip*]
Some of them were really quite cute. But then, when there are a few years short of a decade between you and the boys, you don’t pay attention. In fact I was quite sure they hated me, completely and passionately for the way I ordered them about haughtily.
Then on the last day this sweet young black-t-shirt-wearing [black t-shirts just do it for me man!] I’m-a-rocker-stud-boy came and took my number. But I dismissed it immediately. He had been shot extensively and he probably wanted a copy of the film. The boy, VV, hung with us right to the end. He even asked me about my docu [how did he know?]. Anyway, all things done we wrapped up and came away.
Then yesterday, the client called me to tell me how they’ve all loved the film. The director, the faculty and the students. After a bit of a pause she said, VV’s been asking about you. He wanted to know when you’re coming to the college. He wants to know how you’re doing. He’s hoping you’ll be here in person to screen the film. He looked kind of wistful, she said. Then she added, the boy is besotted, H. And I could picture her smiling into the phone as she said this. I was.
Made me feel nice and mushy warm gooey and it also made me sad.
Crushes are devastating, especially if you’re the crushed. It takes me back to the three biggest crushes of my life. S, S & B. Those were three completely life-defining phases in my life. My S-1 days, my B days and my S-2 days. Everything I did and thought was coloured by my undying adulation for the crushee-of-the-moment.
The kind of bittersweet pain you feel is so intense. Perfection perfected, up on a pedestal, in a way that no relationship can ever match. Swinging madly and gladly between the unbelievable joy of feeling so light and happy and sunny-bright-high; and the deep sorrow of being perennially unnoticed.
If only really. Truly. Madly.
He’ll get over it. I did each time.