The Crush as Separate

Someone recently suggested to me that one thing that might be so compelling about crush is that it is, by definition, separate. Having crushed out feelings allows me to have all the positive feelings about someone – admiration, idealization, lust – without any fear of merging. I am clearly separate. (See post about yearning.) I can stay with my feelings without getting wrapped up in the other person’s feelings. Sure, I fantasize about their feelings. I try to imagine what they are thinking, what they are feeling, but that’s just it – I’m able to have all kinds of imaginings not really based on reality. As a matter of fact, it’s true that once the confession (in high school) occurred and their response was real – I tended to move along to the next. Hmm… is there something in that? Is that laying the groundwork for serial monogamy?

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!