Letter #2/30- Your Crush

Dear Crush,

If someone would have asked me when I was just 15 (half my lifetime ago!) what would make me all swoony and weak in the knees when it came to boys...you would not have even crossed my mind. Now, you're a balm for my tired eyes. When I see you walking towards me, I just go absolutely giddy. Sometimes, I'm out with Tim and I see you and I look away or sneak a peek hoping that Tim doesn't see. But he knows, there are no secrets between us as husband and wife. It's not much for him to process -not much to understand- why I adore you, but it's a catch-22, his inability fulfilling this day-dream of my attraction. Let's go back to the start, shall we? To those days in college when I first saw you in Vogue magazines- you were such a contrast to the androgynous, smoothed-faced whelps that Versace and Dior placed before me. You were rugged; you belonged in L.L. Bean. Not so much Al-Qaida, but more like a long winter in Montana; like Jeremiah Johnson before he took a wife. Upon returning home from college, there were glimpses of you on the indie-band album covers. Then, I saw you live and in concert at 3rd & B- beautiful and glorious on Grandaddy's Jason Lytle. It wasn't but a step or two more that I totally committed to the full-on crush status that occupied my mind with friends at rock climbing clinics and camping adventures. What is it that attracts me so? Luscious shades of brown, red and beige mingle together stating confidence, warmth, security and non-chalance. Not many women like you; I guess that's part of the appeal. Not many men can really be you; I suppose that's where your magic potion lies- in the ability to repel and to attract in some ancient, feral, untamed thing. And it's true, to some extant, you are much more desirable from afar, up close you bristle and scratch. But that's the allure of a crush-it's not real. Because, maybe, if we actually lived together I just might ask you leave. I hope it wouldn’t be so, and maybe in about 14 or so years I’ll have the experiential knowledge necessary to decide. But for now, let’s just say when you show up, I'm smitten.

Love, Lauren