I Have a Terrible Crush on You

This is kind of a dangerous place for me. I'm a person who gets crushes, and unfortunately I'm capable of suffering from several preoccupying and sometimes painful crushes at once (they hurt a little, that's why they're called crushes, in case you've only just learned English or are not a human). And I can suffer them all while I'm in a perfectly good relationship. In other words, I am a terrible, terrible person. I play it cool, but the fact is that if I've gotten to know you a little and we joke around and we've made each other lol or whatever and you are reading this then it is very probable that I HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU. I'm not indiscriminate, mind you, au contraire. But you probably sparkle a little more than you know. Anyway it's a goddamn crushathon for dopey boys like me. I'm just talking about xHamster here, the real world is much worse.

Now don't wig, 'cause the person I'm about to talk about is almost certainly not you, since the person I'm about to talk about I'm sure does not read my blog posts. Get behind me people, I am about to bare myself.

I have developed a particularly paralyzing schoolboy crush on a person here. It is like some vengeful deity read my profile and invented a cool, unimpressible person who would cruelly finger every button in my box. She's beautiful, like mother of mercy beautiful, she's punky, she's transgender, she plays the drums, she's lithe, she's got these fantastical eyebrows and kissy, nibbly lips, dark eyes, dark hair and milky white skin, and worst of all she lives here in London. Maybe next door, for all I know.

It goes without saying that I have wanted to fuck this person stupid ever since I first clapped eyes on her unbelievably sexy thumbnail image. Honestly I'm not sure it's possible to arrange 22,500 pixels in a more attractive way. And that was really the extent of my interest in her for a good long millisecond, until I decided to jab my mouse finger into that radiating square inch of pure sex and was presented with her disarmingly cool 24-word human being synopsis and her 20-odd non-nude pictures. And then oh shit it was like an endorphin tsunami. You could literally see my heart bouncing out of my chest, through my shirt. This is not an exaggeration.

So I approached her with a few comments, genuine and complimentary. Then I struck up a conversation rather casually about her drumming, because in actual-fact real life I am looking for a drummer at the moment, and preferably a solid pretty girl drummer. She responded casually and demurred, and then I cooly did the PM equivalent of looking at my feet, mumbling and slinking off as though I had something important to look at on my phone. Not that she'd have noticed. She basically doesn't *really* know I exist. I'm just one of her 10,000 friends. That's what gives it its classical crush form.

So far so terrible. For two weeks I've said nothing, because, well, I really don't know what to say. I'm sure this is mainly a male problem 'round these parts, because if you're male and sociable you are mostly assumed to be a moron, a boor and a pest from the outset, no matter how genuine and undemanding your approach. You come to assume that. I understand why, and I'm sorry it has to be that way. It's a very unquiet desperation you get from the mass of men around here. I'm sure it's worse to be on the other side of the equation, I'm not complaining.

Now, I'm a good looking guy if you're into guys that look like me, and I've had love and good sex in my life, I'm nobody's pity. I'm a model scorpio, if you believe in that crap, meaning dark, loyal, obsessive and oversexed. But I'm also one of those horribly respectful people who finds out much too late that he really, really should have stopped being charming and just kissed that person he desperately wanted to kiss. You can't really do that here though, because every single person has their own damn protocol, and if they don't spell it out on their little rap sheet then you're just left jabbing around in the dark, hoping not to come on too strong or too soft. And for every sincerely crushing sex elf such as myself there are a hundred cum-spraying china-shop bulls with cringey jokes and degrading chat-up lines to clog up their inbox. How do I catch her eye? Probably not by writing a blog post about her, I guess. Cause that's just creepy.

Mind you, she is not, on the surface of things, here for real life meets. But then neither, on the surface of things, am I. Wait, what am I thinking? I have a girlfriend. And I'm a good guy, loyal and all that other crap. It shouldn't even cross my wicked mind. All the same, I'm pretty sure I would drop absolutely everything and do anything at any time of day or night if I thought I had a chance of getting to know this girl, let alone taking her home. Say for instance somebody said, "JumpingJackFlash, you can have a drink with [username omitted so you don't get any ideas yourself] tonight, but first you have to put your mother into this cardboard box and bury her alive." Well I'm a good guy, but, you know, I'm only human. Needs must. It's that sort of situation. I'm basically just a terrible person with a terrible crush.

Oh well, fuck it, I'll live. If you read this whole thing I am sorry. You deserve better.

P.S. You're not off the hook, I have a terrible crush on you too. Especially you.