Forever Young by Rod Steward

Forever Young by Rod Steward was my Meckenzie song.

Meckenzie – more from “…flirting with girls”

Here’s the next excerpt from Sometimes I think I’m flirting with girls:

I flirt with Meckenzie by complimenting her all the time. I tell her how beautiful she looks and how much I like to hear her speak and how much I admire her. Once when asked how I thought she did during cheer-leading practice, I told her in a note that I couldn’t stop watching her because she moves so well. That was embarrassing and I shocked myself. She liked it, was shocked a little, but she seemed flattered.

She’s what I would call sexy. It’s mostly her manners and her personality. I think she’s pretty. She has very nice legs. I would watch her a lot in English and she knows it. She often turns and gives me the biggest smile! I love her smiles. I told her that one time. I also told her I liked eye contact so I think that’s why she looks at me so much.

My fantasy is not very intense but very pleasant: We are leaving History class and I’m ahead of her as usual. I look back at her one last time to see if I can get a goodbye and she says, “Hey, come here. I want to talk to you about something” Then she turns and walks around the corner of the building where no one is. I follow her very curious. When I get around the corner she takes my arm and says, “I see the way you look at me and I know you feel a lot for me. I really like it when you share your thoughts with me and say you admire me. Well, I feel for you too. I’m really attracted to you and I live to get a smile from you and that something special in your eyes. You say I’m sexy? Well, you are too. Anytime you want to get together and talk about it you let me know, OK?” Before I can answer she hugs me and bites my ear. Then she giggles and walks aways just leaving me there shocked.

My favorite part about this story is the fact that the climax to my fantasy is that Meckenzie is offering to “talk” to me about my feelings any time I want! This story just continues the theme of wanting my feelings to be accepted. In this case she admits to feeling for me too. I can still feel what it was like when she did take my arm while she was talking to me… *sigh*

Close But Not Too Close

This is what I’m talking about. It’s the L-Word of course, so it’s not exactly a representation of my life (or that of anyone I know) but I think this scene is an excellent <Hollywood> portrayal of desire, yearning, and unrequited love. Bette is so crushed out on Candace!

“Sometimes I think I’m flirting with girls.”

I’ve started hunting around in my garage for some juicy relics to use for this project. I’ve always saved everything, but that doesn’t mean I remember that I have it or where it has been stashed. Tonight I went down looking for a particular diary I know exists. Instead I found the most amazing piece of a journal. I say piece because it’s about 15 pages that has been carelessly torn out of something. Part of the binding is left on the edges of the paper and a whole corner is disconnected, simply hanging by bits of tape. It’s dated 10-14-86. It’s clearly some kind of self-confessional binge. As soon as I saw the first line I knew I had discovered a personal treasure. Here’s how it starts (word for word and unedited):

Sometimes I think I’m flirting with girls. I touch them a lot on the arms or hands or shoulders while I’m talking to them. Sometimes I touch their hair if I am really enjoying myself. I use lots of eye contact and look a little deeper than most would. Sometimes I even send a sexy look and inside I am secretly hoping they will notice it. Or sometimes if someone really smiles at me I let myself get embarrassed and show it by quickly turning away and smiling shyly. Some girls I know joke about sexually being attracted to me. I really pick up on this and love it. If they say stuff to me I sometimes literally get turned on. I hardly seem to joke back except with my eyes. I feel uncomfortable joking back but I like being joked with. I guess it’s safe because anything real can be hidden with a laugh.

Some of my friends that I flirt with seem to flirt back after awhile. I like this. I look forward to it and start it sometimes. I tickle a lot and in turn am tickled. Some people that I know feel uncomfortable with touching but can tickle all they want to it seems.

I have one friend, Jolene, who will tickle me rather roughly and daringly and often times leans her whole body against mine or “accidently” pulls me around her. I love these moments. She’s so soft and cuddly and I don’t get excited but I get warm all over and what I want is simply a continuation of what is goin on. This is a person who isn’t very comfortable with hugs. I have my fantasies about her though.

They always take place at her house. We are looking deeply into each other’s eyes, as we often do, and my feelings and desire to be touched starts really growing. I finally look away because I can’t stand it anymore. She asks me what’s wrong and all I have to do it glance at her again and she knows. She says something like, “Hey it’s okay. You know you can feel anything you want to and express it to me.” Well then I am so full of emotion I can’t move and I feel like crying. She comes over to me and takes my hand. It feels so good but I can’t take it back. She takes me down the hall and into her room. I feel like I’m floating and my anxiety level is at its highest. I plaster myself against the wall as she goes to her bed and sits there softly smiling at me. After an uncomfortable minute or two where I have begun to ache all over she asks me not to be so afraid and to come give her a hug because that’s what I want. Somehow I tell her I thought she didn’t want to and her response is, “If you don’t come over here I’ll come over there.” I look up at her and she starts over to me. She stops so she is standing an inch away from me and is just staring down at me pleasantly. I’m starting to really breathe heavily and I want to touch her so badly. She’s making me suffer and enjoying it. She says, “Ask me for what you want and I’ll give it to you.” I can’t speak. I am telling her with my eyes but she wants me to say it. Finally I say, “Please hold me.” She then take my arms and pulls me slowly against her. Then we hold each other very tightly. I’m beginning to get a little out of touch with my feelings because they are becoming extremely strong. It’s intense. She asks me quietly if this is turning me on and this just makes me want her closer. This intensity lasts for awhile and then it’s over.

I think this was written about two years before I came out. It’s so interesting to me what is revealed in my choice of words and in the creation of my fantasy. How could I be so clear about my feelings but still try to deny the sexual aspect? It’s a little laughable. What seems to be the biggest turn on was having my attraction witnessed and then accepted. I think that may have become a theme throughout my sexual journey.

This journal excerpt goes on to describe my feelings for all of my key friends in high school. More from this coming soon…

Define:Yearn

I think crush has everything to do with yearn. I can identify feelings of yearning exactly by their location in my body. When I described this feeling to a friend – explaining the significant differences between the feelings of want and those of yearn – she said it sounded like yearning included the space between the sacral (or navel) chakra and the base (or sex) chakra. I think that’s it exactly.

If I want someone it’s a clear and direct feeling (you know, from deep inside that sex chakra). Generally it comes with a clear picture in my head of how I want them.

If I yearn for someone it’s much more complex. I feel the feeling of want, but along with it comes a burning sensation just below the sacral chakra. It’s a sensation associated with shame or exposure or vulnerability. It feels like hunger. It feels empty and full simultaneously. It’s swimming in need, but without definition. It hurts, yet feels like being on a high.

Here are some definitions I found for Yearn:

1. desire strongly or persistently (synonym) hanker, long (hypernym) desire, want (hyponym) ache, yen, pine, languish (derivation) longer, thirster, yearner

2. have a desire for something or someone who is not present; “She ached for a cigarette”; “I am pining for my lover” (synonym) ache, yen, pine, languish (hypernym) hanker, long (hyponym) die (derivation) longer, thirster, yearner

3. have affection for; feel tenderness for (hypernym) care for, cherish, hold dear, treasure

For me the yearning doesn’t seem to find relief. The wanting can be fulfilled, but the yearning seems to live on – simply changing its object of desire. Yearning seems to create energy for me. It seems to be a life-force behind my creativity – my desire to be awake instead of asleep. It seems to operate in my system like a drug; the more I feel it, the more I want to feel it. Sometimes I think I must be addicted to it. I guess I yearn to yearn.

I want the pain and pleasure combination that comes from feeling the yearn; from being crushed out. And I’ve been hooked on it for the last twenty-five years.

It’s like the flip/flop in the pit of my stomach when the roller-coaster is momentarily suspended in time, just over the crest of the tippy-top of the steepest hill. When the roller-coaster finally comes to a stop and I exit, I am in utter disbelief that I have I survived at all – thinking it was one of the scariest moments of my life. Then I amaze myself by racing back in line to wait for another chance flirt with danger. This time the body memory is fresh and morphs into another wonderful feeling – anticipation.

The Green Sweater

The Green Sweater was my favorite. I suppose it was the color, the material (something really soft) and the way it clung to her breasts. She just glowed in it – like life itself. She already had the most beautiful eyes I had ever looked into. Something about them held wisdom and playfulness at the same time. This sweater only intensified them.

Sometimes I was lucky enough to watch her get ready for school in the morning. Sometimes she came to pick me up for school. Either way, there was always a moment just before seeing her where I held my breath waiting to see what she was going to be wearing that day. Not that I really paid that much attention to clothes. I’ve definitely never been into fashion. But certain colors, materials, and shapes help bring people’s beauty out. Maybe they feel more comfortable in some things and so they are more of their authentic selves. Maybe they just feel sexier. This sweater was like that. Maybe it was her choice of bra. This is something I barely know anything about. My partner wears “sweater bras” and that seems to do something I like, so who knows. Anyway, I’d see that sweater and think, “It’s gong to be a really hard day.” You might be thinking, “Why hard? I thought you liked the sweater!” Yes, I loved it. I wanted her in that sweater.

Now, when I say “wanted” it’s kind of funny. I know what that means to me now, but what did it mean to me then? I honestly did not know. I really didn’t. That’s what I find so fascinating about it! No explicit sexual fantasy filled my head about her when she was wearing The Green Sweater. I just couldn’t wait to touch her and my body was on fire all day, all the time, just thinking about the possibility. I just craved being entwined with her in such a big way – I just burned inside. I pictured it over and over in my head just to get that rush.

I can remember climbing the stairs to her room barely able to walk. I would be trying to talk in a normal voice, I would be trying to keep my ears from turning red, and I would be trying to keep from moaning out loud. Each step was harder and harder as I followed her up what seemed like an impossible flight of stairs. I remember getting quiet. Sometimes she would poke at me to try to get me to laugh. Sometimes she would get angry thinking that I was cutting her off. Sometimes she would just get annoyed with me.

We were heading to her room to “study”. I would pray equally for two things: please push me away so I don’t have to feel this exquisite and excruciating pain; AND please stay connected to me so that when we get inside that room, you will close the door and hug me.

And then the hug would come.

She smelled like flowers and felt like a perfect pillow – soft but not too soft. She was taller than I so my face pretty much sunk into her chest. I just wanted to melt into her. I tried to just melt away. I was always sure she could feel me tremble. The neurons would be firing off in every direction and I would go weak in the knees. Then the blood would rise all the way up my body until my eyes started to burn, go blurry, and then – I would start to cry. What else could I do? Come right then and there? Maybe – that would have at least made more sense to me!

But, no, I just wondered what the hell was wrong with me. How could it hurt me so much and yet I continued to want to do it over and over again?

After I don’t know how long, we would somehow let go of one another. I’m sure I was extremely careful to be the first one to let go or at least act like it the very second she started to. Then, we would go on with our homework. Often we would try to “process my feelings” but I didn’t know what my problem was, so I usually just pushed her away. At that point we might even have a fight.

That night I would lay awake just hoping we would “make up” the next day and that someday – very soon – she would wear that sweater again.

Welcome to The Crushed Out Project!

I will use this place to collect my thoughts, stories, and musings about crush. This project will be about everything related to having crushes, feeling “crushed out,” and unrequited love.

What I’m most fascinated by is the time before I came out as a lesbian. I’m calling this time period my “pre-coming out” days. This was roughly between 1980 and 1989. I’m really interested in examining what was going on for me. Where did all of those feelings come from and what made them so incredibly intense? Before really getting that I was gay, I seemed to express (over and over) my devoted love to my best friends. Then I would wait in excruciating pain for them to return my love. Mostly they did not, but almost always my love was accepted. Afterwards I felt a sense of relief for not being rejected, but because the intensity was not actually returned I never felt the other kind of Relief. So, then I guess I felt crushed.

Everyone has crushes. Everyone can relate to the exquisite pain and pleasure experienced in the yearning that comes along with unrequited love. Share your stories with me. If you’ve got something from the 80s please be sure to include a relevant song. No doubt the music of that decade was made for sappy, nostalgic lovers like you and me!