I have a crush on all my friends because once upon a time, they were strangers.
Strangers, unto myself and unto others alike. Stranger… a strange relationship to find oneself in, but a relationship nonetheless. Not an a-relationship, that is. People unknown, they’re outlandish but fecund acquaintances, especially when kept at arm’s length. They’re electrons – the mere act of observing them, of firing photons from your tiny pupils to discern who they may or may not be, changes their very essence. Their multitude of being, nay, of being able to become, is why they must be cherished. Equally empty, equally to be loved. Like the sylph who dwelled in the classroom’s northeast crevice, behind the mighty Epson – elevated luminary and distributor of wisdom, blessed are we who have you among us – the blond one, who always looked down on me and squiggled her eyebrows up and down, and made funny faces behind the professor’s back as he shot a longing gaze to the great outdoors, who was strange as they come, and stranger still.
Who was she?
An arch-nemesis possessing a florid voice, who’d lure me in with lullabies and thyme honey, only to go for the kill. A budding romance, which could flourish furiously or wither away into ash. Or, perhaps, a friend? A trusty companion of life, to pull me from the nadirs and push me to the zeniths. To tell me stop or go, when either of the two needed to be heard.
What was she? But a superimposition of the three.
A fertile stranger, eager bloom.
Into a common flower.
I have a crush on all my friends because I dig them as people, they’re pleasant and so much more.
When we first met, I found them wonderful for one reason, or another. Their brains enchanted me, so did their chops. The first tell that we’d get along were the thoughts and words, gushing out uncontrollably, and the knowing of what they were all about! I fell for the awareness and lucid image of their themness, their having found a niche in the ecosystem of character and ridden it out to the other end of the rainbow. Their having found fool’s gold and bought wisdom. As they poured out verbal stuff my brain was raked in and my east mediterranean hairs stood on end, tingling. I shivered from excitement, eager to uncover what they were about. Who are you, I used to think, and what will you become to me? I wanted to see more, but until I did, how could I discern if they’d be the next ____ or ____, or whatever I happened to be looking for at the time?
It couldn’t be done, because what I sought and still seek in relationships at large, transcends what I seek in any specific type of relationship… first you choose to play then decide on a position. I don’t particularly care if you’ll be a nine-to-five friend or my wife, you must first have the stuff. The anima and joie-de-vivre that makes living large and wonderful – wonderful as everything always ought to be! The ‘life chops,’ if you will. Once it’s determined that you have it, or, since this is all partial, once I’ve decided I like your way of having it, the rest can evolve as it may.
I have a crush on all my friends, not as objects of desire, but as creatures to be marveled at.
I get their drift and want to be around them, not for any particular reason, but for any reason whatsoever. Just the other day I asked a Romanian blade of grass out, platonically, or so I thought, and was flustered when she asked if it’d be a date. “Why no,” I replied, “no time for such silly things on an adventure.” See, my idea of a date is akin to the playdates of yore, the good old escapades that were so popular when we were innocent but have since gone out of fashion, alas, their future looks dimmer still. Anyhow. “Good,” she replied, “because I’m already seeing someone.” “Okay,” I replied, and proceeded to do what any red-blooded male would do, provided they were in their right mind. I invited her plot of soil (the proverbial boyfriend) on the date as well. And why not? I ask. If the point is to truly know a stranger, there’s nothing to be lost, and who better to have around than that stranger’s loved one? The one most qualified – besides a ma, pa, and the occasional nan – to water and carefully tend to their disjointed thoughts, to initiate an editorial back-and-forth providing clear ideas on silver platters.
When meeting a stranger, there’s nothing to be lost but the chimera of who they might’ve become. But these phantasies were always meant to be transient, and eventually erased. Daydreams to be brushed off as reality is polished then buffed, thought experiments to be wound down as the true relationship comes into sight.
As the triplopia becomes diplopia, and the diplopia is in turn reduced to the crystal image of a person you are beginning to know.
As the excitement of what could be is supplanted by the excitement of what is.
I have a crush on all my friends, and I’d be a fool if I didn’t.
I have a crush on all my friends and am friends with all my crushes. They’re not too different after all. In doing so, I avoid the needless and often arbitrary bifurcation of people into potential this or potential that – the great separator of people! I just like them all, metaphysically speaking, and leave the rest to the powers that be, to luck and circumstance.
