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The Toybox

people for the conservation of limited amounts of indignation

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the rules of attraction
children of dune - leto 1
So finally finally got the name of the Guy I Have That Crush on (under Unrequited).

Wait. I need a soundtrack. We'll go with The Finer Things by Steve Winwood. You can judge later.

This continues the adventures that began in discovering my libido has decided it's time to reawaken.


Before anyone stares blankly and closes this, I mean, we had a conversation of more than ten minutes, cementing my desire to get naked in a theoretical way, because we chatted lightly about school and his scholarship and his job at a software company or his music and I didn't stare at his stomach at all. Though it's flat. Jesus God, it's flat.

There's just--something wrong with this. I don't just feel fifteen--I act like it. It's like some horrible part of my brain wakes up in stuttered shock--Boy it says, startled. We like those, don't we?

We don't, I say grimly and stare at him and think, he's not that cute. Because he's not. He's not. But he's type, which is the problem, because I flail for a very narrow vector of the male population helplessly and looks actually don't matter. Well, that body does. But that's type, too. It's like a short-circuit in my brainstem; I mean, just check out my last three male crushes in fandom. Type? I have one. And it's as good as a flip of a switch. There's just letting it run its course.

Whilst going down the hall, I asked about his last month or so, and he mentioned music (Thank God musicians aren't my kink; I'd be in a hall closet with him being as fifteen as I could be), and his backache and oh, right, girls.

"Girls?" I stuttered, coming down the stairs, feeling the start of something that comes really close to panic as I rewound and circled slowly around the sentence. Girls. Plural. "You--have a girlfriend."

"She likes girls too."

I didn't stop short; I mentally pulled up the last time I wrote group sex and steeled myself for carrying on a real life conversation with a human being. I am suave and cosmopolitan and even once was invited to a threesome and watched all five seasons of Queer as Folk, so I totally know all about this sort of thing. I read Dan Savage. I am prepared.

I'm fifteen and the cute-smart-what-the-fuck-former-military-all-A-student-with-a-full-scholarship? What the fuck universe? Do you hate me that much?

"Really?" I said, and my voice went up three or four decibels, nothing noticeable. He gave me a sideline look. "I'm straight," I said, and babbled out something else and something else and as we parted ways, he grinned and said, "You should try it," and wandered off while I tried to decide what Dan Savage letter I should use as reference for this very special moment.

Sadly, he was gone and I was walking outside.

It's like--all the geekiest and weirdest and least attractive parts of my personality come up at times like this, and none of them are really comprehend human interaction. I was a horrific fifteen year old; epic moody and constantly writing about Phantom of the Opera (you are seeing who I connected to here) and staring into space and no ability to carry on a conversation with a person that didn't reference sci-fi and Dune, and it's like--I don't even know what I'm supposed to feel. It's so easy to want something and I can blow that off without even thinking, but this keeps stuttering me short and off-balance and weird.

I don't even know how to contextualize this into the framework of Jenn-ness.

Seriously, universe. So not funny.

Actually- and I can't really tell if you're not relating the whole conversation and well, I wasn't there so I can't guess based on you know, body language and such-- but that almost hit my skeez-o-meter.

I'm not sure if you care but I'm saying, my alarm went off, and I have been in similar situations and not had the alarm go off.

I'm not--I'm just not sure what I said for at least part of that exchange.

I--don't know if mine did. People who hit on me kind of are required to state their intentions in broad English or I won't pick it up. But this is the first time he's wandered over to converse with me for that long for no particular reason and then walk out with me, so it was...Eh.

Though if I go that route, I'm betting that the girl who sits near us both would be first choice, if proximity and conversation. Though for some reason he did move to sit behind me during class. No idea what's up with that.

(no subject) (Anonymous) Expand
(Deleted comment)
Oh thank God it's not just me.


That's the funniest thing in the whole world, because you totally didn't notice he was hitting on you.

15 for the win!

Totally ask if his girlfriend's hot the next time you see him.

...I can't even tell if he was. It was just so conversation normal that it didn't even register completely until the girls part. Well, conversation normal with someone I'd never really had a convo over five minutes outside class with.

There's just--something wrong with this. I don't just feel fifteen--I act like it. It's like some horrible part of my brain wakes up in stuttered shock--Boy it says, startled. We like those, don't we?

I feel your pain. OH GOD CAN I FEEL IT.

Resist! Solidarity! Resist ... oh hell, it's just too late, isn't it. We're doomed, doomed, by our own biochemistry.

Stupid biochemistry. *sulking*

my brain wakes up in stuttered shock--Boy it says, startled. We like those, don't we?

I know that part. And yes, it does turn you into a 15 year old girl. It's a good thing I didn't have access to pastel gel pens the last time that part of my brain woke up or my paper journal would probably be full of god knows what kind of Lisa Frank nightmare.

*twitch* I have this insane desire to write his name over and over in my spiral.

*twitch harder*

This is probably just the greedy reader in me, but I would suggest that you channel these teen hormones into porn.

Like, teenage John and Rodney AU porn? Where Rodney, super-smart computer guy is blown away by cocky military-bound John?

Or college, where John's picking up some classes on the GI bill or something.

In any case, I feel your pain. I'm just not used to finding real people in my presence (as opposed to those charming guys on TV) lightning-bolt attractive, so on those very very rare occasions it happens, I feel like I should sit down with my head between my knees as I wait for the hormone tide to subside.

*hee* I'm thinking about it. The teenage porn bit.

Pretty much my reaction. It was such a wtf moment.

*Jaw drops*

"You should try it," and wandered off while I tried to decide what Dan Savage letter I should use as reference for this very special moment.

wow. He's. Flirting.

I kind of hope so? For the fun part. And maybe it'll burn out the crush faster.


That is. Amazing.

Also a little scary.

I am with you on the 15-ness though. There is this guy at the Starbucks in the mall where I work and I can't even look him in the eye when I give him my order. I like. Look at the coffee machines behind his shoulder. -_-

Solidarity. I *totally* cannot meet his eyes at all. Sooo embarrassing.

If you tape your lectures, maybe you could tape your conversations with him. That way you can rewind once the pretty is out of sight and the blithering has stopped.

Or y'know, resign yourself to going through adolescence again.

God. I'd just--it's--I'm clumsy, it's so humiliating, and I had this second when I read this of yes! Except I'd trip over my coat and drop my books and grab for my recorder and just die on the spot.

*begins to giggle* It's so insane. I feel so--light. And so stupid in a good way.

you sound - and pardon me if i'm misunderstanding, but it SOUNDS - like you are THOROUGHLY enjoying yourself.

sir, i salute you. <333

*laughs* Not untrue. It's just this entire--I feel like a girl!!! It's awesome and so weird and God. No idea what to do with it.

With you on the crush thing. I'm married, and devoted, and love my husband deeply, but last year when one of my friends happily informed me that she had a girlfriend! and girlfriend was nice! and wonderful! and sweet! I had a totally irrational, deeply angsty fit of sulking. Privately, of course. But I was vaguely awkward for a couple of weeks afterwards.

*giggles and hugs* I can relate. I got angsty when my best friend started dating the love of her life. Very carefully privately, but man. Gah.

I am kind of happy that my Crush of Doom has abated slightly. Of course I've had no contact with Crush of Doom for like a month so, uh, we'll see how that goes once I'm back on regular contact. >_>

But--yeah, with you. I generally managed to retain most of my brain but augh. S'hard. Like I am slogging through molasses only the molasses is hormonal *lust*. Did I mention that Crush of Doom is someone I know through jujitsu? That would be okay except for the part where we are often in close physical proximity. As in, like, physically touching me. ...I am a very *physical* person. TOUCH DOES THINGS TO ME, OKAY. Like, less with the lust as such and more with the leaning into it and purring because yay touch! And it's not usually an issue because I don't usually get that with people in jujitsu even when I'm friends with them. But then add in hormones and it is oh god seriously why *me*, universe.

He's married, I'm essentially married, and we're going to ignore the part where my partner and I aren't monogamous because HE IS MARRIED.

*raises glass* Sisters in inappropriate crushes, represent!

Edited at 2008-01-23 08:39 am (UTC)

Oh man. *holds up glass* We are so screwed sometimes.

Stupid hormones.

(Deleted comment)
*grins hugely* That is freaking *awesome*.

Is the guy generally the sort that will overshare in a casual manner? I had an achingly hot friend some years ago who would talk about his sex life (and boy did he have a good one) as if it were the weather, with no pointed intent towards me and little awareness that it resulted in me being capable of powering a small city with my sublimated frustration. But if that's not the case, it sounds like he is sizing you up as a prospect for romping with his girlfriend.

somehow, the latter idea is actually funny. I kind of wonder how he'd go about it.