The first time I had a crush I was six years old and positively obsessed with the boy who lived down the street from me. I didn’t care that he was six years older than me, or that he made fun of my Troy Bolton bookbag, I was head over heels for him. I was so sure he’d feel the same way about me someday. I remember telling my mom about him, explaining how in love I was with this boy, and asking for her advice. She laughed fondly at me and suggested that I waited until I grew up a little more before I started worrying about boys. Now, when it comes to boys, all I do is worry. And I know I’m not alone in feeling like this, so maybe we should start a support group or find someone to lead a workshop titled something like “How To Handle A Crush 101”. Looking back on it now, I firmly believe having a crush when I was six was more tolerable than having one at twenty-two.
Having a crush in my twenties is, in my opinion, awful. Maybe it’s because I haven’t truly dated anyone since my sophomore year of high school, or maybe it’s because ‘crushing’ is seen as this juvenile thing reserved for ages 18 and below. Or perhaps it has something to do with my fear of being seen for who I truly am, only to be rejected; vulnerability is the bane of my existence. But whether it’s societal norms causing me to feel like I’m thirteen years old all over again, or my own issues with having feelings for someone, who’s to say? I just know I’m not sure how to handle these ‘childlike’ feelings. When I was younger, I assumed that by the time I was an adult and I liked someone, I’d have this grown-up confidence to tell them straight to their face. But the thought of rejection continues to hold me back. And the mere idea of having my heart broken again makes it beat faster and not in a good way. And even if I do find ways to reconcile those fears, that still leaves me with very little confidence that I can navigate my grown-up crushes. I figured by now, I’d grow out of the butterflies that erupt in my stomach when I see a notification from my crush. Or at the very least, I’d be able to ditch the embarrassing blush that takes over my face whenever eye contact is made. Yet, as I sit here, freshly twenty-two, I can confidently say that my responses to liking someone have stayed fairly consistent over the last sixteen years.
Now, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with staying consistent, if anything I’ve learned how to hide my reactions better as I’ve aged. So maybe I still get butterflies when their name pops up on my phone, but I’ve gotten a lot better at flirting over text. And even though I tend to blush when eye contact is made, I’ve learned that smiling into it helps it go away faster -thank you Healthline. The one thing I haven’t gained though, is the confidence to be upfront and honest about my feelings when I have them. Now, context always matters. Sharing your feelings isn’t always the best. There have been a few times when it would have been more harmful if I had shared my feelings rather than keeping them in. But there have also been times when I’m left mentally kicking myself for letting someone get away, for missing my window of opportunity. What would my life be like now if I had the courage to say how I feel rather than obsessively liking every Instagram story they post? Where would I be if I had been bold enough to make a move instead of staring at them creepily from across the room? There’s no use dwelling on the past, I know, but I can’t help but wonder. I’d like to think that as I get older, this confidence will find me somehow. But I know that, in the end, it will be up to me to make things happen. I no longer want to be a passive participant in my own love life. I am sick of waiting to be discovered like a hidden gem. I think it’s high time I pull myself out of the shadows and try walking in the light for a little bit.
When I was in middle school my dad was the coach of my softball team. I loved mostly everything about the sport, except batting- I hatted batting. I was absolutely terrified of getting hit by the ball or striking out in front of the crowd. One day, after having a meltdown over being sent to the batting cage my dad pulled me aside to talk some sense into me. He explained that getting hit is just part of the game. Whether you like it or not, it is inevitable that if you choose to play the game, you’re accepting all the risks that come with it. It’s not always home runs and safe slide-ins to second base. Sometimes you strike out, and every once in a while you get hit. And as the incredible 2004 movie, “A Cinderella Story” so beautifully reminds us, Babe Ruth gave some pretty solid advice that applies to both softball and dating: you can’t let the fear of striking out stop you from playing the game.
So, I’m going to try and be more like Hillary Duff. I’ll march right into the (hypothetical) locker room, and tell Chad Michael Murray what I really think of him. And just maybe, it will end with me getting kissed in the rain after spending all that time in a drought.