Crushingly Awkward

Annnnnd big sigh. Here we go again.  I know I have said this before and yet I just feel the need to say it yet again- I hate having a crush. Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing quite like the feeling of 5 million butterflies fluttering around in the pit of my stomach, somehow managing to push my heart straight into my throat. The subconscious smile that crosses your face as they enter the room. And sure, if I were somewhat of a normal girl, I would thrive off of getting crushes. Let them be my emotional cocaine, going from high to spinning high, just to feel my heart pound. But no, I just can’t be one of those girls can I? No of course not, that’d mean being somewhat mentally graceful (and that kids, I cannot seem to be).
I get tongue tied, what my brain is so eloquently telling my mouth to say seems to come out in a spillage of backwards, misspoken words. I blush, my goodness do I blush. I can’t seem to, for the life of me, keep eye contact for more than 2.5 seconds. And if I make it that long, I take it as a personal victory. So let me spell it out for you- if I find myself attracted to you I become very, very awkward.

Having this knowledge of myself I tend to stay away from getting a crush on someone as if they were a runaway car on fire. This usually consists of avoiding any single guy who I find myself attracted to, and/or (and this is my usual go-to plan) I become a complete and utter bitch (there, I said it). If I find myself getting a crush on you- I will avoid you at all costs. But sometimes, when I’m walking out of the restroom and am caught off guard by the one person I happen to find myself terribly attracted to standing right there in the hallway and my face lights up like the freaking rockefeller christmas tree as I squeak out “hi” then realize my face is turning bright red and hurry past him. I love having fair skin, but moments like this is when I hate it, because any color that embeds itself into my cheeks when I blush gets magnified. To the point of my coworker yelling out, “why are you red?!”. Because I’m an idiot and can’t function like a normal human being around my crush, that’s why. Meet me on any other day and I can chat it up like no one you’ve ever met before, bubby, loud, extroverted, I will converse with you until the cows come home. But put me in the presence of someone I am attracted to and I become the shyest introvert alive as my twelve-year-old-girl insecurities rise up.

So maybe I should take this moment to come clean on something.. I don’t hate crushes, I hate the insecurities they bring to light within me. I love who see myself to be when I stand alone, I am a strong, confident woman who nothing can phase, and no one can convince me other wise. Yet, place a man in my life and all that goes to the wind. Wondering how long it’s going to take this one to decide I’m not enough like so many before have let me know? Yes, I know through and through that this is simply a reaction to wounds caused by others and it isn’t the truth, their words should not define how I expect men to see me now. The truth is, (and I bet you didn’t know this) I’m not perfect. I sometimes believe the lies that whisper so gently into my ear, ignoring the screaming voice from within me letting me know I am worth a man’s attention, and even more so, his affections. Yet no matter how I’ve been treated in my past, or how many wounds I’ve acquired from those times, there is still a girl who believes in fairy tales. That likes seeing that guy walk into the room and having to bite my lip before a smile breaks across my face. That keeps hoping he’ll ask for my number, or at least that I can have a functioning conversation with him without repeating to myself over and over ‘don’t be shy, don’t be shy, don’t be shy’ as I train him on the registers (hypothetical situation of course).

Ok wow, that got deep there for a second didn’t it? Let’s pull this story plane back up before I have anymore emotional downward spirals (in this post at least) and spill some more embarrassing purging of the infinitive awkwardness of my pretty little self. So what am I trying to say here? Two things. I have a crush (scandalous right?). And I’m fighting hard to let my scars be just that, scars. And not reopening wounds that cause insecurity to shut me down. I’m a catch damn it, excuse me while I remind myself a few more times before I can fully function in the presence of someone cute.
Baby steps, I’m going for baby steps here. So mayyyyyybe I don’t hate crushes after all……