Crushes

There was a time when crushes were awesome and made every day worth getting up for. Then you got a life. Now crushes are more like benign tumours of the mind.

Think of all the weird stuff you do when you are bored. The Dennis the Menace in your brain commands you to jerk your leg up and down or dig your nails into your skin, just for something to do. Crushes are similar. They are how the sex part of your brain reacts to a lack of sex during daily activities that shouldn’t involve sex.

Crushes never lead to anything. Well, sometimes they do, but usually it sucks. I once had a huge crush on a guy. When he asked me out, I nearly died. Three months later we’d already stopped having sex and basically hated each other, but somehow it was hard to break up because I still wasn’t over the fact that someone I had a crush on liked me back.

That’s because crushes aren’t even based on anything. The fact that he’s cute makes you do all this bizarre footwork to justify the fact that he is borderline racist and has no sense of humour.

I know what you’re going to say: “well, at least having a crush makes life less boring.” Sure, but so does being an alcoholic or a workplace masturbator. That’s the kind of commitment crushes demand of you. It’s not like you just get a little tingle whenever you see them. The crush is running around the back of your head all the time, spraying silly string and blowing noisemakers.

Daily life is not supposed to be a roller coaster of intrigue. It’s supposed to be the time when you get work done and think about practical things like what’s on sale at the grocery store and where you’re going to be in five years.

Having a crush makes every day feel like a movie where a wacky cop is partnered with a serious cop.

Wacky cop is an asshole.

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