Once I said that I had a crush on John Lydon, after having seen a documentary wherein he met sharks. This was a mistake.
What a crush is, is not a feeling of exhilaration or inspired respect due to seeing someone who is unafraid to tell bullshit it’s bullshit express what appears to be genuine excitement and joy. Seeing someone who fucks off nonsense get excited and enamoured is one of the very best things about society. The word CRUSH is one of the very worst.
I hate the word crush, because it has never felt like it has actually applied to my emotions. Crush is blushy, and psychologically unexamined, and I hate to blush. Blushing is my opposite of competence. “Crushing” does not exist for me.
When my honey gomessq used to tell me that he had “cool friends” in school or college, I accepted that he wasn’t lying to me but I also was inescapably sceptical. Because, who has cool friends? In school? I certainly didn’t, not that they didn’t have their good points. There wasn’t anybody ‘cool’ in my whole year, except in hindsight.
I was cutting my fringe in the shower (not a good idea; the mirror will steam up) the day before yesterday when I realised that he was the same age as the cool girls a couple of years ahead of me at school. So that’s it! People who are cool are just two (or maybe three, but he is only two so that would ruin my epiphany) years older than me.
