Dream dresses. (Photo by Devyn Galindo)
well we certainly see a lot of what’s below her mouth
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There She Goes.
A few weeks ago, I found myself developing a crush on a girl for the first time in 24.9 years. I’m not talking the #WomanCrushWednesday kind of crush that suggests admiration and idolization of a woman’s career, #bodygoals, or style. I’m talking like a real crush–one that means I want to hold her hand and hug her, one that means late nights laughing and exploring the city, and one that means freezing up and panicking any time they come around.
At first, I found it amusing, that after all this time the person who dresses exactly the way I like my ideal man to date, happens to have a vagina. I didn’t think of it as anything other than infatuation with her style, but as the days went by, I found myself experiencing symptoms of actual crushing–not only did my stomach drop every time I saw her name, I was also giddy and excited at the thought that I might see her around in passing. These are things I hadn’t actually felt since my freshman year of college when I developed a crush on a football player named Pete.
The one thing Pete and this girl (and all my crushes) have in common is that I don’t know them. They are almost as mysterious and fantastical as Bigfoot because they run in different circles and they participate in different things than I do. That uncertainty is exciting rather than frightening. If I did see them, it was equal parts torture and treat.
Crushes are terrible because there’s a strange, small, yet ever-present possibility of actually having to interact with them; therefore, the chance my perfect crush will melt into a real-life human being with flaws is real, and honestly, worst of all, it’s possible they might actually be perfect and they won’t feel the same feelings for me.
But my crush on Pete was fleeting and died away the more I learned about him. So my crush on this girl is more like my high school crush, which is basically out of John Hughes’ movie. My high school crush started as a silly obsession with the fact he remotely resembled Nick Jonas, but as the years went by (yes, I said years), I learned more about him as a person, and he sounded like everything I’ve always wanted. I had few opportunities talk to him, and for all I froze or ran away (literally), but I never heard one bad thing about him, except maybe that he liked stereotypically pretty white girls.
What’s most scary about this crush on a girl is that there is no difference between how I felt about her and about him. I had a deep respect for him as a person, and unconditional crush that will likely last a lifetime.
And I call it scary because it’s unknown and unexpected– do I tell my parents? Is it just a phase? And what if it is? Is it fair to try and pursue it? What if it’s not? What will people say?
The reactions I’ve gotten from people of my generation in the very liberal city that I live in, were mostly positive and encouraging, but my former circle of friends are married and Christian. My family is conservative and traditional. We don’t have anyone in my immediately family that has ever even admitted to dating someone of the same sex.
I fear that this new development will cause tension and, selfishly, ridicule. I am afraid of having to dodge jokes and personal jabs at my preferences, that people will start expecting me to be different or, worse, pray that I change. I am terrified that I will disappoint people. I am terrified people will leave me.
Now, I feel insanely silly and selfish because I’m not even entirely sure I am gay or bisexual, or anything– it’s just a crush on a person with the same reproductive parts as me– but the fear of rejection is still there. I can now imagine with great empathy and actual understanding of what LGBTQA individuals feel. I can now understand how lonely, dark, and frightening it must be to live in world where every person who walks by might have a personal vendetta against you based on whom you love. I have daydreams of holding my crush’s hand and walking down the street, but it’s quickly disrupted by the nightmare of someone saying something cruel to us. I imagine us having a date night in a hip bar, and a drunk man approaching me and telling me I am “missing out” or that he can “change me.” I picture bringing her home to see where I grew up, but then having my brother refuse to meet her because of her gender.
Those imaginary thoughts keep me from fully being excited about the potential to get to know an amazing person. These imaginary, but very real fears, stop me from being open to the possibility of being happy with anyone other than a man.
I imagine that many other people feel the same way when they reach a point like this in their lives –when someone other than what society expects you to love (whether they’re of a different race or culture or religion or gender or orientation) completely knocks you into a spiraling, confusing yet exciting, scary fall. You don’t know where you’ll end up, but truly, the worst possible scenario is that we choose a person or a path or a future merely out of fear.
Right now, I’m afraid because I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know if it’s a big deal, I don’t know if it’s permanent, and I don’t know what it means for the future I wanted as a mother and a wife, but I’m going to try and let go of that fear. I’m going to accept this as me right now, and I’m going to embrace it, and embrace the fact it’s OK to be scared, too.
those blue eyes, those blue eyes, those blue eyes, i see,
those blue eyes, those blue eyes will never see me.
BELOW HER MOUTH
AFTER A LONG TIME WAITING, I GIVE YOU:
BELOW HER MOUTH PART 1 - (u r very welcome)