I (Used to) Crush a Lot: Part II

Me trying on a dress in Chicago that I couldn't afford, even though it was on sale. But LOOK AT THE PRETTY.

I didn't only have crushes in high school, but I'm sure you assumed that.

And I've been enjoying this whole "writing things that I might hypothetically say to boys" endeavor, so I'm going to continue. (This is more for me than for you, so feel free to not read it.)


Here are some letters for the people I definitely won't see at my high school reunion. (NOTE: This is not going to be a complete list. This is going to be however many I can think of before I pass out.)

- "Hello Ryan. I had a crush on you in 2nd and 3rd grade. Mostly because when we were supposed to make pictures using only construction paper hearts on Valentine's day, you made an extraordinarily intricate scorpion. You were so hardcore (for a 3rd-grader). I won the class spelling bee that year, and I remember mentally dedicating it to you... and hoping you were impressed. You moved away, and I never saw you again."

- "Hi. I can't remember your name, because I used to call you Delaware, as that's where you'd moved from. Major crush on you in 3rd grade. You were the first boy whom I actually was crushed on as a result of having awesome conversations with (at the time, they seemed very deep and intellectual... but we were in 3rd grade, so that means nothing). My friend Stephani hated you, so I never spent as much time with you as I would have liked. The days she was absent, you and I hung out by the monkey bars at recess and just talked. After 3rd grade, I switched elementary schools. I think you must've moved, because I never saw you again (or maybe I did, but I didn't remember your name?). You were the coolest, and I bet you're off having great adventures somewhere."

- "Hi Brian. I thought you had a crush on me in 2nd through 6th grades. We saw each other once a year when our parents had to go to meetings at a ski resort in Michigan. You once fought another guy so that you could sit next to me on a particularly long chair-lift up the mountain. We were both obsessed with "All That", and would do dueling impressions of Lori Beth Denberg's Vital Information for Your Everyday Life sketch. We would also sneak off while playing hide and seek with other kids, and hang out in a stairway on the other side of the building that they didn't know existed, where we were TOTALLY FLIRTING on an elementary school level. Imagine my surprise when you announced on Facebook that you are gay. BRIAN! YOU CANNOT BE GAY! YOU WERE THE FIRST GUY TO EVER FLIRT WITH ME! This is all very upsetting. I see you ended up going to Stamford for computer programming in undergrad, and stayed at Stamford for a Master's in computer science, and eventually went to law school there. So clearly, I've always been attracted to super intelligent guys. But at this point in time, you were the only gay-blindside that I've ever had. Your Facebook profile states, 'The sexiest thing someone can be is articulate.' I whole-heartedly agree (and this leads me to believe that we might now be interested in the same types of men)."

- "Josh, I met you at summer camp. I suspected from the beginning that you might be gay (which is why I don't really count you as a gay-blindside), but then you called me sexy once, which briefly sparked some hope. Last time I ran into you, you were wearing eyeliner, mascara, foundation, and blush. I heard that by the end of high school, your parents had disowned you and you had moved in with a friend. I hope you have found the kind of love and support in your life that you need."

- "Russell, you twit. I asked you to my junior prom, and you said no. I went alone. Thanks for nothing."

- "Hi Jim. Oh, the crush I had on you. The crush to end all others. I literally once saved a ketchup packet that you handed me in the cafeteria. THAT'S HOW CRAZY I WAS OVER YOU. I remember taking the SATs in the same room as you in middle school, though I didn't have a crush on you then. I took obsessive notes for you in our high school Psychology class while you were out for your scoliosis surgery. I wrote you a really bad love poem once, and I made the misguided decision of putting it on the internet, and Kate totally made fun of me over it, but I thought it was brilliant. Wish I still had it (it was a villanelle that compared you to the sun; wow, that's insanely funny now. I was SO INTO YOU), but that blog was lost in the Diary-X crash of 2002. I think you knew I had a crush on you, and that's why when Kate scheduled it so the two of us would walk together at Relay for Life, your friend Mike walked too, so that you wouldn't have to be alone with me. You told me I sounded great singing the song "Somebody to Love" by Jefferson Airplane, which then immediately became my favorite song. We were picked to sing in a quartet together in a choir concert, and I thought that was just the best thing ever, but I was so terrified to actually sing that I broke out in hives. When I was in the finals in one of the playwriting competitions I used to do, you told everyone that you were sure I was going to win, and that made my heart flutter. I was shocked (SHOCKED!) when you asked me as your date to my senior (your junior) prom. I didn't care that you specified that you were asking me 'as friends.' We hung out a lot in the lead-up to prom, as my good friend Christie was dating your best friend Mike, and the four of us were going together. Once we were actually at prom, you totally ditched me and hung out with the girls from orchestra the whole time, while I was with the drama/choir kids (although we were both in all three groups -- as were Christie and Mike -- so I'm not sure how we got separated). I once drove past your house just for kicks, but then I realized how super creepy stalker-ish that was, and was too embarrassed to do it again. My obsession with you consumed me, and I wanted to just crush you into myself and take you around with me all the time. You recently got a Master's degree from Stamford, again lining up in the trend of me falling for super smart boys. The degree was in Psychology, so I'm pretty sure you got it because of my BRILLIANT note-taking in high school. In that case, you're welcome."

Me, Jim, Christie, and Mike on our way to Prom. (May 2002)

- "Hello, Dan. You are a genius composer, and I once arranged it (ha! no pun intended!) so you could give a concert in my parents' house. Of all the guys I've ever been crushed on, you may be the most fascinating. When I asked you if we could get a picture taken together at graduation, you insisted we do it while hiding behind some big drums in the band room. You taught me how to beat out eighth notes with one hand and triplets with the other, which I still do absent-mindedly from time to time."

- "Screw you, Burrito. You were my first kiss. It happened directly after I said to you that I was not ready to be kissed. But you didn't seem to care. I'd had a crush on you for about a month. Not long after you kissed me (I also have a vague memory of a brief make-out session in an elevator that was particularly daring and exciting), you started entertaining flirtations from my friend Anna (for which I place equal blame on both of you). I came back early from spring break because you were stuck at school and BEGGED me to come spend time with you, but when I got there, you wanted nothing to do with me. That's about the time that I started finding out about your past as a criminal. You were making fake IDs out of your dorm room. And hacking into your high school's computer system and changing your former schoolmates' transcripts for money. And then, finally, you got caught stealing from another Notre Dame student (but were so freaking charismatic that you actually managed to talk your way out of being disciplined in any way). I was sick for a month right after that, during which time you basically dropped off the face of the earth. Next time I spoke to you, you made some comment about how, "the guys in my dorm are convinced you had a crush on me when we first met, but I told them they were wrong and that we just kiss sometimes. Oh, also, I have a girlfriend now." My poor, stupid heart. You subsequently married that girlfriend, and I believe you have now been married for 6 years. Good for you. You also got fat. HA!"

JP, Courtney, me, and Burrito. Um, how cute was I?

- "Hey John. We met in college. You were cool. And funny. And super smart (which, obviously, I think is great). And it seemed like maybe you were interested in me, but only when you were drunk. You called me "Hot Aiea" when you were drunk (and then you sent me an article about how people are more likely to be truthful when drunk... which I probably should've understood was a sign, but I'm super dense about this stuff, and only put it together long down the road). But you never made a move. And the one time you came over to my dorm room, I just got really nervous, and then everything turned awkward. You're a lawyer in Chicago now, but you were out of town on my most recent visit. I would have liked to have seen you. Sometimes I wonder if you read this blog, as you always seemed to have a knack for calling or texting me directly after a post in which I'd mentioned failings in my romantic life. So if you're reading this (are you? -- weird), hi there."

This might be the only photo I have with John. And he's blinking. And his weird roommate is in it. And I'm wearing an awful shirt.

Fabian, John, Justin, and Shamp.

- "Hi Justin. You were John's friend (and later roommate). And a total douchebag. But you're hot, and pretty quick with your insults, and if the douchebaggery was aimed in someone else's direction, it was funny. But John was a gentleman, which you never were, and realizing that vital difference was the end of my crush on you."

Justin, classy as ever. He wrote the phrase "Canuck's Bitch" on my friend Mary's leg with a Sharpie when she was wearing a mini-skirt. (He's Canadian.)

- "Hello, Mikey. I admired you from a distance for awhile because I thought you looked like the drummer from Matchbox 20, and at the time I had a thing for drummers (glad that phase is over). You were simultaneously admiring me, apparently. You were 17 (you'd skipped a grade in high school and started college early, you smart boy, you), and I was nearly 19. You were the first guy to ever ask me on a date, which I tragically had to turn down because I was leaving to study abroad in Italy the following week. The night before I left, you finally kissed me (I was shy, but you persuaded me to make out with you using a football metaphor; yeah, I'm still not really sure how you pulled off that black magic). We made out for hours. You pinned me against a car and kissed me in the pouring rain, which would've been totally gross if it weren't so damn hot. I was with you until 4:00am, but I told my mother I was saying goodbye to my friend Mary. I thought about that make-out session with you so, so much, that I literally had to drop a class as a result of it (I couldn't concentrate on the archaeology of ancient Rome while I was daydreaming about you). We used to IM, back in the days that people IMed. You once referred to me as "the perfect woman" on your away message for the world to see. I'd never felt such glee. I started sending you hand-made postcards, which you never acknowledged. You called me up once asking if I wanted to get pancakes with you at 3am. I wish I'd said yes, but instead I wrote an overly dramatic piece of slam poetry about the conversation. You started dating some girl who destroyed your self-esteem, and you dropped out of college. A couple of years later you started doing theatre, and you wrote me to thank me, and said that it was because of my influence. I was never sure whether that were true. No matter what happens in my life or yours, I'm not sure my crush on you will ever fully fade. You made me feel intelligent, sexy, and special. And I will never forget that."

- "What's up, Jason? You offered to hold my hand once as we were crossing the street. You had a cartilage piercing, but didn't have the danger or spontaneity that I expected might accompany it (you got it pierced in a pediatrician's office). You were a math major of some sort, and belonged to an über-geeky math fraternity. I remember thinking one night while we watched a movie, "wow, he's got game," but I can't recall why that thought went through my head. I hung out with you for a couple of weeks (if that), and then when I saw you again a year later, you referred to me as a "former girlfriend." Um, we never technically dated; we just watched movies. You are married now, and I sometimes wonder if your wife actually knows that you're married. You tried to kiss me once (more proof that we never dated?), and were a terrible, horrible kisser, and I have since written a monologue partially inspired by that experience. So, thanks?"

- "Hi Greg. You already know you're on this list, because I sent you a bunch of my Diary-X blog posts while you were studying in Egypt, and I forgot to edit out the part where I casually mentioned I was 'so over Greg.' Most of our friendship consisted of you telling me about Jeannine (the girl you were obsessed with), then flirting and cuddling with me, and then going back to talking about Jeannine again. I have never been so confused (but it gave me something emo to blog about for 3 years). You are so smart, and so funny, and such a good cuddler. And I loved that you wrote incredibly controversial articles for your campus newspaper just to ruffle feathers. You did the nicest thing for me that I think anyone has ever done: skipped a concert of a band you loved so that you could surprise me with crayons and maps and help me study for a geography test that I was undoubtedly going to fail (and I ended up getting 100% on because of your diligent tutelage). I don't think I've ever known anyone as intimately as I knew you. We got to the point where I could listen to a song and know whether you would like it. People used to tell us that we would make a cute couple. You almost kissed me once, under a street lamp in the sunrise rain, in what would have been the most romantic moment that I've ever come close to living... but you shied away at the last second. One time, you actually said that you would love to date me (and I nearly fainted), but you never actually went further than that. I don't blame you for anything, but in retrospect, I think you screwed me up more than anyone else. Because after you, I wanted SO BADLY for someone to actually be interested in me, that I didn't take into account what I wanted in someone else anymore. If someone was interested in me, I was just magically interested in them (I call it "The Greg Rule"). I've survived a lot of really messed up quasi-relationships (which I won't go into now) as a result, and I also second-guess every nice guy I date, because I'm so worried I'm only dating him because he's interested in me in a way that you never were. You are working for a big fancy company now that keeps you busier (and more frequently out of the country) than anyone else I know, so I only speak to you once a year, if that. The last time I heard from you was an email a couple of months ago saying how heartbroken you were, as you have just now discovered that you and Jeannine will never be together (after, oh, 13 years of being obsessed with her... you didn't explain, but I'm guessing she got engaged to someone else). I still consider you to be one of my best friends. I wonder if I will ever know anyone as well as I knew you."

Me half-asleep on Greg. I always liked this picture even though I look terrible, because it's the only picture I had in which it looked like Greg was adoring me more than I was adoring him.

"Hey V. I totally forgot about you until I was looking through my photos just now. You were Greg's roommate, which meant that I spent a lot of time around you. I thought you were super cute, until you went on a drunken misogynistic rant. You said that you didn't feel women pulled their weight in society, and that you'd never known a woman who had lived up to her full potential. Just a hint: that is not an attractive position to take when speaking to a female (especially one who goes to a women's college, because we're pretty much all feminists). You're married now... Huh."

V and me. Glad I got rid of that shirt. Also, what's with the angle of this photo? Was it taken by a small child?

- "Hi Mike. My other best friend from college. It's weird that I ever had a crush on you. So, so weird. Obviously, it was fleeting. We did a lot of platonic cuddling during college and in Chicago (by the way: you're the best cuddler I know, and if it becomes an Olympic sport, you should absolutely represent the USA), but I always kind of thought of you as a brother (and I know you're not offended by being "friend-zoned", as you refer to me as a sister, and we've had jokes about how us getting together would feel strangely incestuous). Then one time, you said something that sounded vaguely flirtatious, and I was instantly crushed (which I think can be blamed on Greg, in retrospect; you were the first victim of The Greg Rule). I thought, "Why have I never considered Mike as anything other than a friend? Mike is the best! I have been so wrong to friend-zone him!" Then about a week later I held your forehead while you drunkenly vomited and cried over another girl (Mary, my then-best-friend, whom you were crazy about), so I got over it very quickly. Thank God. You're one of my best buds, and I can't imagine how weird things might be now if anything more than platonic cuddling had ever happened between us. Excited to go to your wedding in the spring! (Not to Mary!)"

Mike and Mary

Mike and me. Apparently I really loved that shirt.

- "Hello, Pretty Girl (whom I will not name here, as I believe you are still claiming to be straight). I never knew what to do with you. There was a period of time when I am quite convinced you were flirting with me. Actually, I didn't realize you were flirting with me -- as I am rarely aware that I'm being flirted with/at/to -- but I put everything you had said and done on my then-blog, and my readers unanimously agreed that you were. If you were male, I would've actually picked up on your flirtation, because it was so glaringly apparent... but it was harder to pick up on coming from a female, if only because of how unexpected it was. You would put your hand on my thigh while we were talking. You would invite me over to your place to watch tv and movies, just the two of us. You would invite yourself over to my dorm room. You would give me little epithets that only we knew. You would lean in close and whisper things to me in an intimate way. At the time, I found the attention somewhat confusing. But then I realized that you were everything I was looking for in a man. And you're very attractive. I was interested, but I was held back by fear. Then I started realizing that all the attention you gave me only came when no one else was around. In front of others, you were actually more likely to taunt and mock me (playfully, I thought at the time). Were you ashamed of me? Or trying to hide that you felt something for me? Then we went through a period of time when we didn't see each other much (I was in a show, which takes over my whole life). You came to see me in it, and seemed so proud of me, and your compliments hit my heart more than anyone else's (even though it was somewhat out of your territory). But I got a boyfriend, and you started casually dating random guys, and somewhere along the way you stopped speaking to me. We had been good friends, but suddenly you started doing passive-aggressive things that were hurtful to me. Like replacing me on a project we had planned to collaborate on (without telling me, no less). Or canceling on plans for which I had pre-paid for both of us. You were still avoiding me years later when you visited Chicago and somehow got me uninvited from a party we were both planning to attend.  I don't know what your problem was/is. I try to contact you from time to time, but you don't respond. Of all the people on this list, I probably desire closure from you the most -- primarily as a friend. (I am still wounded. And incredibly angry.) But I suspect that I will never get it."

- "Ben, I thought you were H-O-T at the time. Smart, funny, and talented... and those are boxes I like to tick off. I would've forgot to mention you, except you just came up on my Facebook newsfeed."

- "Hi Dave. You were the inspiration for this post. I had a crazy huge crush on you while we were in a play together in Chicago. When I visited a couple of weeks ago, we established that you didn't realize that at the time (which is funny, because I'm the same way; I never have any idea when people are interested in me, regardless of how perfectly clear it may be to others). I always kind of figured that when you and your girlfriend broke up (because everyone knew that the two of you were going to break up), you would come find me. But by the time that happened, I guess I was dating someone else (Michael, I think -- what a cypher that relationship turned out to be). Perhaps it's for the best. I'm grateful not to have an awkward past with you. Weirdly, based on what you said and did on my recent trip (which, again, I didn't think much of until my friends Pete and Mike pointed out how forward you were being -- especially notable, since you're married now), I think you may have more closure issues from that situation than I do."

Why is this the only picture I can find of me with Dave?

Oh, wait! I found one of us dancing in the play. This was right after I did a big high kick (which is why my skirt is up like that), and right before he was about to dip me.

- "Oh, Matt. What a charmer you were. We were in a show together (with Dave), and had a sort of mutual admiration society. We weren't in any scenes together, so when we were off-stage, we'd each watch the other, and then say how brilliant each of us thought the other was. I think you knew that I'd had a crush on Dave before my crush on you began. I wonder if anything would've happened if that hadn't been so apparent..."

Me and Matt screaming.

How cute is Matt?

- "Dane, stop un-friending me on Facebook! You were in the same show with me that Dave and Matt were (I had just broken up with my first boyfriend, and to paraphrase Teen Girl Squad, I had a crush on EVERY BOY). You told me that I was the best female Guitar Hero competitor that you had ever come up against (and the only one who could hold my own on Expert), but you still handily beat me. You once said that I was the perfect woman, and that you wanted to marry someone exactly like me (and really wanted to marry a virgin), but that you couldn't date me because you couldn't give up sex. Guess what Dane: if you're not willing to give up sex, then there is no possible way that you can marry a virgin. LOGIC."

Dane, the un-friender.

- "Venessa, I thought you were incredible. Absolutely my favorite girly crush. A great actress, who understood and appreciated First Folio Shakespeare in the way that I did. Completely gorgeous. So knowledgable. A fast-thinking, free-spirit who shot from the hip and acted from the heart. I was fascinated by you. And I kept trying to subtly find out whether you would be into dating a girl... But then you got a boyfriend, rendering such information useless. And then you started trying to set me up with a guy friend of yours who saw me once in passing and thought I was cute. Colour me disappointed."

- "Oh, Ben. You're a cutie. I blogged about you, which was what made you confess that you had discovered my blog and had been reading it without telling me, and you had a girlfriend that I didn't know about, and things got super weird. You're not on Facebook, so I can't stalk you, and that drives me nuts."

- "Hey, Ricky. I met you through NaNoWriMo, which was when I was in that weird place with my ex-boyfriend Brian where we weren't technically dating yet, but where we were talking on the phone every night... so my crush on you never really fully developed. You are an electrifying writer, in a way that I could only hope to be (the first time you read something to me that you'd written -- something about eating "asteroid pancakes on Tuesday" -- I loved it so much that I had an impulse to tackle you and make out with you right then and there, in front of the whole NaNoWriMo gang; obviously I suppressed that impulse). And you made me laugh. And I loved exchanging grandiose, longiloquent emails with you. It was epistolary foreplay, and I think we both knew it. I loved when you used words from the grandiloquent dictionary just to make me smile. I still have those emails, and I read them about once a year. We used to make each other videos, and you inspired me to new heights of geeky creativity. You once made me a strip tease music video, and it was pretty much the best thing I've ever seen. You used to read this blog, but I'm sure you don't anymore (frankly, I'm impressed with anyone who does). I got a call from a jail in Pennsylvania at 3am about two years ago, asking if I knew you, as you'd been picked up for drunken belligerent behavior after winning a Risk Tournament (congratulations, by the way). I think the cop may have said you crashed a wedding reception as well, but it was so long ago that I'm not sure. I must be in your contacts as 'Aiea' (which I love), as I know you have a sister named 'Alyx', and I think they called me because I was listed first alphabetically. I've tried to get in touch with you, but you have never called me back."

Me and Ricky, one of the few times we actually hung out in person.

Still think he's a swell guy.

- "Hey Barry. We met through this blog. You were one of my first fans. Remember when you made me that video where you were singing a duet with Kermit the Frog (whom you were also voicing)? I don't remember when my crush on you started (probably when you were blogging about your adventures in Japan), but it sure was full-force when Kermit came around. Also, as you know I tend to love it when people think I'm great. But you weren't the typical Greg Rule case; you happen to be pretty cool. And hot. (HA! Room temperature, I guess?) You propositioned me through drunken text messages a couple of times (might be the closest things I've ever received to this newfangled "sexting" that the kids are talking about, although they were still pretty tame by most standards). We planned to finally meet in real life when I got back from studying abroad in London (and, dude, we were totally going to make out). Ha! Yeah, that didn't happen. I didn't see you until a couple of weeks after meeting my darling boyfriend, Phil. Bad timing, I'm afraid. I recently went to your going-away party, before you take a fun, fabulous, international job. I met your gorgeous girlfriend (seriously; wow). I'm glad your life is going so well."

Me and Barry in NYC, just a few short weeks after I met Phil.

- "Hey, you. You're the person on this post who is most likely to actually read it, but I figured you'd be happier if I left your name off (although I'd wager a fiver that you tried skimming for your name, so maybe this was the wrong decision?). I think I've expressed most of what I would want to say to you. I cannot compare my experiences with you to anyone else; you are separate, solitary, singular. I've only actually been in your physical company a handful of times, but I feel more attached to you than that figure might suggest. My intermittent crush on you helped me get over two different break-ups, the first of which was particularly painful. I know that you have meant more to me than I have to you, but I was always at peace with that. Just like Mikey, the experiences I had with you crept into my thoughts invasively (after each event, and for a long while). Conversely (although you once used a cheesy line that suggested otherwise), I doubt our times together replayed in your mind much at all, as I have a feeling they were quickly replaced with new, far less tame adventures. But for me, they were among the hottest and most thrilling times I've ever had. You are vibrant, quick-witted, genuine, sexy, artistic, adventurous, and a truly caring person. Some of the emails you've sent me through the years have given me more helpful counsel than conversations I've had with close friends. You have this knack for casually paying me compliments that improve my self-image and relieve some of my insecurities, for which I don't know how to properly thank you. I think about you often, and occasionally worry about you from the minuscule fragments of data I gather about your life (don't read too much into that; just know that I care about you as a person). I hope that someday you find someone who appreciates you for more than just your looks, your job, and your address. I wish we were closer as friends than we presently are. Write me any time."

EDITED TO ADD: "Hello, Derrick. I thought you were into me. Hence why I was into you. We went out on a date once, but at the end you hugged me and said, 'I'm so glad we're friends.' That was weird."

- "Hi David. You're one of those people I was only interested in because of The Greg Rule. You used to call me at 3:00am asking how I was, and if I wanted to go out with you RIGHT THEN. Which was hilarious, not only because you were drunk, but also because you had no car and wouldn't have been able to meet me anywhere even if you had, in fact, been sober. A jealous friend of yours once drunkenly approached me at a party and told me to stay away from you. So I did. And I'm glad."

Of course the only picture I have of David is one in which he seems to be drunkenly hitting on someone, even though he has clearly wet himself. How appropriate.

- "Ugh, Jake. I had a crush on you for a couple of weeks, until you started sleeping with my roommate. HUGE MISTAKE. She was paranoid for the next YEAR that I was hitting on you, which I WAS NOT. You kept trying to flirt with me against my will. I had to live with her. And that sucked. And also, one time she accused me of flirting with you at a time when I MOST CLEARLY WAS NOT, and I punched her. Pretty hard. She had to ice herself the next day. And even though that was totally my doing and not yours, I'm going to go ahead and blame you for it, because this is my blog, and it's an ungodly hour of the morning, and you never should have A) slept with her, or B) flirted with me when you knew I was not at liberty to flirt back."

- "Bonjour, Julien. You are in the circus, and have held at least two World Records connected to your specialty event, The German Wheel (one of which you currently hold... *drool*). Watching you perform is the sexiest thing I have ever seen. (Note: Julien does a circus act that is a metaphor for struggling with sex addiction. It's genius.) We dirty-danced together in bars, which was exhilarating as well. But once the dancing stopped, you were self-conscious about your ability to speak English (which was so very appealing with your French accent), and clammed up. The last time I saw you, you were leaving a house party with two Italian girls, which was disappointing to say the least. Every couple of months, I use Google Translate to figure out what is happening on your Facebook wall, You should be flattered, because that is the most effort I have ever put into Facebook stalking anyone."

Me dancing with Julien. You'll just have to trust me that it was hotter in person.

I don't know what that face was about. Something got lost in translation.

- "Blake -- you came into play because of The Greg Rule. You were into me (I think. Were you? Wait, what am I saying; if I noticed, then you must've been, because I have to get hit over the head with it to notice), and I was very lonely, so suddenly I was into you. Also, you're smart, and one of those mythical nice guys, and I'm a sucker for that sort of thing. You quasi-asked me out once, but that date never happened. One night, you tried to (awkwardly) make a move, but I misread the signals... and then kicked myself, got drunk, and made out with my friend Dane. And then a few days later I met Phil, and I heard you were upset about that. But dude, your fault. Also, we are COMPLETELY wrong for each other, so no great loss there."

- "Hi Dane. I'm not sure that what I had on you was ever technically even a crush. It was more that I really wanted to get drunk and make out with you. (Isn't alcohol a divine excuse for behavior that would otherwise be unwise and awkward?) You drunkenly hit on me with some frequency for the first two years of grad school (so maybe this is the Greg rule again?), even once trying to give me a hickey in a bar (and you had a girlfriend at the time), for which I slapped you in an exceptionally hard fashion in what was the most truly deserved and satisfying slap I have ever bestowed upon another (although, as usual, you claimed no recollection of such events in the days after). I was always sober, and, thus, nothing ever happened (one of us had to make the responsible decisions). One time when we were both drunk and you implied you wanted me to lose my virginity in London so that you could sleep with me, I punched you (what is it with me getting violent when I'm drunk?). It took two years of knowing you before we made out for about two minutes. It happened in a London bar on a dare from some strangers who said we looked like we would make a cute couple. We had already kissed on stage in a Shakespeare scene that we had acted out earlier in the day -- and we had both been drinking --- so it seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. You told me I was a great kisser, and I reciprocated the compliment. Then we resumed kissing. And then we realized how awkward it was (well, you did... I was enjoying the moment, to be honest), and you made some excuse about having to go get a beer. We never spoke of it again, for which I'm actually pretty grateful. It's weird that we ever made out, because by that point, I sort of thought of you as a frustrating younger brother whom I had to keep an eye on... But damn, you were a good kisser. Seriously. Damn. Well done. We made out a few days before I met Phil, so congratulations on getting in right before the buzzer. You are engaged now. Good luck."

I think this is the first picture I have of me with Dane. Too bad we both look terrible

Here's a better one, from our second year at grad school. He tried to kiss me at this party, even though his girlfriend was standing about 10 feet away.

(Side note: This two-part list contains two Danes, a Dana, and two Dans. And I once dated a Dan. What are the odds? Also a Dave and a David, now that I think about it. Also a Ricky and a Richard. A Ryan and a Brian, and I dated a Brian. And a Jake and I dated a Jake. Sorry, but the name geek in me is freaking out a little now.)


Honestly, there were probably a couple more (if you can believe that... because this list seems super long). But that's all I can remember at this precise moment in time. And it felt pretty great getting all of that out of my system.


May you let go of the things that didn't pan out, so that you may move forward with the ones that did.

~A~