thenameselodie gives us the low-down on her crushin' style—and throws us another curveball about Ace!—Sparkitors
As a high school girl who’s had more than her fair share of crushes, I can say with certainty that there are several phases unique to having a crush. Sure, sometimes it’s instantaneous—you walk into pre-calc one day and BAM, there he is, looking gorgeous and somehow embodying the beauty of both Joseph Gordon-Levitt and James Franco (he may fail at hosting the Oscars, but have you ever seen Flyboys? Being that attractive shouldn't be allowed), and within about ten seconds you’ve already planned your honeymoon and named your kids. Sometimes it happens like that. Other times, however, it’s a gradual process that consists of several key stages.
STAGE ONE: You notice him, elbow your friend in the gut, and whisper in her ear, “Oooh, who’s that guy? No reason, just curious…. His eyes are kind of amazing, though, aren’t they? And that hair! You could build monuments to that hair! But I don’t like him or anything, I don’t even know him. JEEZ.”
STAGE TWO: You start noticing him—whenever he speaks up in class, goes to get a drink of water, whatever. But it’s not creepy or anything. It’s not! And you don’t have a crush. Really.
STAGE THREE: You bypass those “no seriously guys I don’t have a crush on him” formalities and stalk him relentlessly on Facebook. If he’s single, you rejoice in a raucous fashion. If he’s taken, you secretly plan to smother the grabby little skank. If he doesn’t have a relationship status, your nights become consumed by thoughts such as, “Why didn’t he specify whether he’s single or not? Does he date? Does he even partake in such frivolities? Or is he in a relationship so meaningful that declaring it on Facebook would only cheapen it? Is she pretty? Is she a gymnast? Does her hair look amazing 24/7? WHAT AM I UP AGAINST?”
STAGE FOUR: Every time he talks to you, inwardly you just want to jump on him and scream, “DID YOU KNOW YOU ARE CURRENTLY MY FAVORITE PERSON?”
STAGE FIVE: Back when he was just a Normal Guy, he could’ve ask for last night’s homework assignment and you could’ve given it to him, no problem. Now that he is a Crush, you stare at him for like twelve seconds before confirming that, yes, he did just acknowledge your existence, and then you stammer in a voice just oozing seduction, “Uh… did you… I mean… wait, what did you ask? Uh, by the way, yourhairlooksamazingIjustthoughtyoushouldknow…”
STAGE SIX: You memorize his entire schedule and “accidentally” run into him every so often. Sometimes you just watch him from afar and bask in the glorious way he walks, which is a manly and purposeful stride.
STAGE SEVEN: Your friends get wind of your crush (or rather, what has slowly mutated into a full-blown obsession akin to my epic, year-long fixation with Marky Mark in ninth grade) and confer upon him a nickname. Now you can all gossip about him in public.
STAGE EIGHT: You begin collecting little random facts. His middle name is Charles. His favorite candy is Twix. He has never been to Disneyland. And it’s not creepy that you know these things. It really isn’t. You’re just gathering intelligence so you have potential conversation starters—and it’s not creepy. (Okay, it’s borderline creepy.)
STAGE NINE: Your daily Enjoyability meter depends largely on factors such as, “Is he wearing that plaid shirt I like?” and “Did I manage to somehow intercept that dazzling smile of his?” When you don’t see him at all, you consider the day a write-off and trudge home in abject misery.
The crush usually peaks around now, and then comes the veritable tidal wave of self-pity as you watch The Notebook in your pajamas and eat Rocky Road ice cream while sobbing to no one in particular, “WHY MUST YOU TAUNT ME WITH SOMETHING I WILL NEVER HAVE?” There’s some crying in the shower and a fair amount splurging on Taylor Swift songs. It’s an ugly, ugly phase, but you get over it just in time to notice that one kid in your chemistry class and his beautiful, beautiful eyes (the kind you could literally get lost in).
The reason I say all this, Sparklers, is that I just need to establish my credibility as One Who Has Had Many Crushes. They’ve ranged from the cute cashier at the grocery store, who I liked for about four days, to the quarterback I drooled over for years. Seriously—I know what I’m talking about here (as opposed to when I talk about physiology or existentialism, in which case I’m basically just winging it). I’m familiar with the weak-in-the-knees, butterflies-having-a-mosh-pit-in-your-stomach sensation, but here’s the deal—I don’t feel any of this for Ace.
I don’t get excited when I see a text from him. I’m not any more excited to see him than I am to see my other friends. We hung out this weekend, but it felt like an obligation. In fact, when he asked if I was busy Tuesday, I had every intention of saying I was free—but what came tumbling out of my mouth was, “Yeah, actually I have to babysit.” Babysit? I swore off babysitting years ago when I realized I liked kids about as much as I like having my teeth drilled, but Ace doesn’t know that. I haven’t told him much about myself, to be totally honest.
And yet all this uncertainty must be one-sided—I have this friend, Whitney, who’s been friends with Ace for years, and she says he likes me. So I must be doing this get-the-guy-to-like-you thing right… but now I’m starting to wonder if I spent so much time trying to get him to like me without stopping to figure out if I actually like him back.
WHAAA?!? We are flabbergasted! Does Elodie luurrve Ace or not?
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