2001-01-05

Crush Boy, Pt. 1

Aww, you like me. You really like me.

The previous entry seems to have worried a few of you. Thank you for your kind words and your concern; I really wasn't fishing for it, but thank you just the same. I have no immediate plans to abandon this silly project of mine; at this point I have too much time and energy invested in it to put it out of its proverbial misery. Let's just say that writer's block is a terrible thing, writing is a terrible thing, and some days the thought of sloughing it all off and working in a Dairy Queen is enormously appealing. That is all.

Interspersed with the "please lisa don't kill it" emails was some very positive feedback regarding those awful high school diary entries I decided to post for your collective amusement. They are pretty frightening, aren't they? So tonight's topic, I decided, was Crush Boy (not his real name).

The beautiful, fabulous thing about Crush Boy and I is that we are still excellent friends after all these years -- we were both involved in each other's weddings -- and when I finally admitted (when we were well into our twenties) to having such a pash on him in high school, he expressed genuine surprise. Boys. Go figure.

December 11, 1985: Crush Boy has been acting strange lately. He gives me these strange looks that say, "Get away from me." I don't know if I did anything wrong. I haven't exactly been pushy. It's not as if I go out of my way to follow him. I don't! I haven't been pushy at all!

Denial. It ain't just a river in Egypt, as my mother would say. I knew exactly where Crush Boy's locker was, and I knew his schedule to the nanosecond. Enough said.

March 26, 1986: Crush Boy commented on how incredibly loud I play my Walkman, and that he likes Talking Heads, too! He also asked me why I write all over my hightops. I told him "because they were there."

Everybody sing together now: "Young LUUVVVVV...first LUUVVVV...."

June 30, 1986: I just got back from play rehearsal. Crush Boy was staring at me all night! It wasn't exactly a look of pure infatuation, but it wasn't one of utter contempt, either. I couldn't really tell. I was sitting on the stage by myself, contemplating my feet, when he walked up to me and said, "Fuck this number." I go, "yeah." I really like him, and I hope he likes me..."

Good Lord. The minutiae. I'm lucky if I can remember where I put my keys these days, and here I was faithfully recording every utterance out of Crush Boy's mouth.

God. I'm going into a diabetic coma over here. Pardon me while I go take a shot of insulin....

lisamcc at 00:39:58

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