The Agonizing Thrill of a Crush
Moonlighting as an advice columnist
I had my first crush in kindergarten. We were five years old, his name was Jake Silverman, and he cried on the day of our Thanksgiving singalong performance. We all wore headdresses made of construction paper and matching pillowcases we’d cut holes into for our arms and head to poke out of. As our teacher arranged us in two rows, taller kids standing in the back, shorter ones kneeling in the front, I was placed right in front of Crying Jake. I don’t remember why he was crying (maybe because he loved me?), but I remember rolling my eyes and turning to my friend next to me, “I have to sit in front of crying boy.” Big dramatic kindergarten eyeroll.
This was the first time I had ever “played it cool.” Ew, I have to sit in front of crying boy? More like, thank you god almighty for creating this seating chart that lets me have such close proximity to Perfect Beautiful Jake Silverman. Maybe he and his friends will act silly today and I'll turn around and tell him to stop and then he’ll make a mean face back at me and I’ll pretend to be mad and then he’ll give me bunny ears during our Thanksgiving performance and then we’ll do that again and again until we’re married
Well, we are not married and it has to be because I simply played it too damn cool. How was Jake Silverman supposed to know that we were meant to be together?
There comes a turning point in life, don’t ask me when, when crushes go from being the most embarrassing thing you could ever experience to being an agonizing delight. It’s like tiptoeing in a creaky old house, afraid to wake your parents as you sneak out for the night, followed by the heart-pumping thrill of making it out the door undetected. It’s tasting something for the first time and suddenly you can’t remember what the world was like before this glee. And when it’s a big crush, it can be absolutely excruciating.
Are crushes anxiety? Probably. Crushes are butterflies in your tummy, which many years of dating emotionally avoidant people has taught me that those butterflies are not necessarily your friends. But crushes are so fun because when you’re in Crushland, nothing has happened yet. And when nothing has happened yet, anything can happen.
My friend Jordan and her husband Beny are a good example of this. They’re a classic case of best friends turned lovers. They had such a strong foundation of friendship, but someone had to make the first move. And before either of them did, they got to live in this fun place of possibility. Jordan and I spent many hours on the phone while she bounced between what ifs. What if we were more than friends? What if I say something and it ruins the friendship? What if we get to know each other on another level and it’s amazing? Ultimately, Beny decided to go for it. He borrowed Jordan’s vacuum under the guise of “cleaning his home”, and upon returning it, declared his love for her. Now they share a vacuum.
So to honor the agony, for Valentine’s Day, I sell what I call Crush Cakes — mini red and pink heart-shaped cakes, each decorated with cutesy ruffles and adorned with sweet expressions of love. Similar to conversation hearts, we have expressions ranging from “I <3 U” to “call me” to “RAIL ME.” When folks place an order, they can choose between the PG or Rated R options. As of right now, the majority of orders are in the naughty category. You buncha sickos, I got you.
No matter the category, the spirit of the crush cake is meant to be one of boldness. It’s about the sweet innocence of having a crush, mixed with the bravery of acting on it. And let me tell you, I love a bold move. File it under Sagittarius things: acting before thinking, the rush of starting something new, doing things for the plot. This is the essence of the crush cake — pushing through your own fear and vulnerability for the sake of pursuing something you want. Recently, I asked my Instagram followers to tell me about their crushes and I melted reading their responses. Here are a few:
His laugh is so pure, it makes me feel joy in my body
She’s like Cincinnati, the most beautiful, warm, joyful, lovable, mean, angry, cruel place on earth
Great smile, terrible farts
My guy friend who is sending mixed signals
A boy I lost touch with but never stopped thinking about. We got back together 12 years later
I’ve loved him for 24 years and we reconnected last year. Best thing that’s happened to both of us!
It’s my ex-b, part of me wishes we’d try again :(
My former roommate turned husband
They are so smart, so handsome, so sweet, I might tell them over a slice of cake
She’s teaching me what a safe and healthy love looks like
My oncologist who is literally keeping me alive
Friend of a friend I recently met who is funny, kind, AND hot??
Makes me laugh, teaching me to mountain bike and weld and that maybe love is real???
Now, the crush cake is not about blindly chasing a fairytale. It’s about the exhilarating and terrifying rush of saying exactly how you feel. If you’re like Mixed Signals Friend above, the crush cake needs you to ask for clarity. It will be scary, but clarity is always better than agonizing in limbo. Because even if it leads to a let down, at least now you know you can move forward.
In the case of Lost Touch But Never Stopped Thinking About, sometimes things do go the way of storybooks. They’ve been together for 2 years in a long distance relationship and now she’s moving to Salt Lake this summer. Imagine if she had never said anything!
Learning to ask for what you want is a muscle that you can train. If you’re sitting here thinking I could never do that – whether it be asking your current fling for something more or asking your boss for a raise at work – know that you actually can. My sister taught me this when I needed a push to ask my former boss for a promotion1. The first time will be scary, but you will get better at it. Your heart rate will come back down, and you will have just advocated for your needs. And then you can do it again.
Worst case scenario, somebody says no. In that moment, rejection can feel like something you can’t recover from, but you will. Best case scenario, you end up the happiest you’ve ever been and running a pizza business named after your dog together.
I was strung along for a few months then eventually got laid off, but now I own a bakery, so…