It’s been some days since I dropped the bombshell that I am experiencing a seismic *crush, on an actual, real life human being. I mean, it’s not
that I usually have crushes on dogs, structures or kettles (it happens, watch the documentary about the Berlin Wall/Eiffel Tower/horse in the mid West……), what I mean is, that this person is a very real part of my life. As opposed to, say, the hot musketeer of BBC fame or Johnny Depp dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow. Note to self: write the post about Johnny Depp dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow.
Seriously, an actual, real crush. Like you had when you were fifteen. The type that fills your head with daydreams of what it might be like to go for a walk along the Seine, hand in hand, what you would prepare for the first meal you cook for them, champagne, rooms filled with candles and angels singing. Maybe Cupid is lurking about in the picture somewhere. The type that keeps you awake at night – bad times, the type that surpresses your appetite – good times. Every cloud and all that.
And I, being on the cusp of my middle age <says through gritted teeth and pursed lips> (and very British), am not quite sure what the Hell to do with these feelings. So used am I, to keeping everything **’pretty much’ under control with my brain practically engaged and my ‘es lo que hay’ attitude.
So, as there will be some time until we are in the same place at the same time again, I’m wondering if the space will act as a sort of cooling-off
period, or will only serve to fan the flames……
*Crushes are both wonderful and suck. FACT. The evidence of which has been scientifically proven by my currently fuddled brain. That one’s for you science world. You’re welcome.
**except when I discovered Twinkle Toes Temper Tantrum had replaced me within a matter of days; that was not a good day. To quote Scouse Bird Problems, I was ‘fewmin´’ (on the inside and to one unfortunate friend who took me for cocktails).