Now I’ve found another crush
The lush life’s given me a rush
Zara Larsson

I know it’s weird, but I’m in love with the idea of falling in love.

I’m in love with the crazy unpredictability of it all, the thrill of the find, the bated breath hope that could he be the one, jumbled with the anxiety of am I good enough for him, the insecurity, will he notice me, the subtle hints, blushes, laughter, witty retorts, the primeval mating dance, now I want you now I don’t. Stealing glances, the static, that crackling in the air that happens whenever we get within a foot of each other, like, if his hand brushes mine, one or both of us will be instantly electrocuted. I love the discovery, noticing every little thing about each other, the shades in his hair, the flecks in his eyes, the moods in his smile, the exchanging of little stories. Then the courtship, dressing up for him, planning special gifts, celebrating milestones only we both know, the constant teasing by friends, pretending not to be bothered by the jealousy of others, the satisfaction of knowing that I got him. I yearn for that fluttering at the feeling of his body pressed against mine; sinking into his heat and feeling the flush permeate my senses and pulse in my core, like the room was warmer somehow, and my future within its walls a little less bleak.

But then slowly and inevitably the feeling starts to slip away, getting lost in the maelstrom of insecurities and miscommunications. The endearing gestures start to suffocate. Tendrils of lies start crawling out of hidden crevices until I know, I know that sooner or later he’s going to hurt me, leave me, and I won’t endure that, I won’t. The empty feeling is starting again. I need my fix. I need that rush of being in love. But it’s not there. He’s not the one. I turn and walk away.


I find myself seated across from him admiring his strong nose and the eyes that light up as he talks about his job. He smiles a lot and there is something light and happy about him. He’s tracing my fingers as he talks. Slowly his fingers move to my palm. I close my hand around his, deeply inhaling his clean fresh scent, feeling that familiar rush creep up again, wondering…
Could he be the one?

One thought on “The rush

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