Monday, 30 April 2012

My love life involves a Lovecraftian horror - come in, it's fun here...

Ah, straight crushes. If I ever go on Mastermind, and they turn down my specialist subjects of "Pokémon, Generations I - III" and "The Current, Exact Whereabouts Of Ezra Miller", "Straight Crushes" would definitely be my backup plan. I wouldn't exactly say I'm the master of straight crushes, because that would imply that I face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality, and I'm sure that all my friends have itemised lists of occasions when I have really most sincerely not acted in that manner, but suffice it to say that I'm very, very experienced in these matters.

The very first image result for "experienced" on Google - what the actual fuck?
I suppose my crushes can be very neatly subdivided into 3 types: the Idol, the Innocent, and the Singularity. Idols are people who I develop crushes on just because they appear to me to have nothing wrong with them, in any way, ever. These are the people who turn up to school, get 100/100 on their Maths exam, and then go home with a nonchalant "Oh please, it was nothing..." look on their handsome face. Innocents are something of a departure for me, because they're the people who I don't particularly harbour any sexual intent towards - I just enjoy looking at them and their cuteness (that wasn't meant to sound so creepy, my apologies). Those two types are fine, no unpleasantness there, poise and rationality all round. It's the Singularities that cause all the problems.

Terms from General Relativity are never good when they're used out of context.
Singularities are people who, in my strange, slightly Asperges way, I become completely and utterly obsessed with. And I don't mean as in I Facebook stalk them all the time, I mean as in "Hmm, maybe I should go see a psychiatrist... after travelling for 2 hours just to leave a gift on his doorstep" obsessed. But there's only been one of those, so hopefully he was just a blip.

I suppose I should go into more detail, but I'm not sure that a) all of these people know that I fancy/fancied them, or b) want their names associated with a blog that has "Homo" in the name. I suppose I could take my imminent departure from my college as an opportunity to say "Screw this, screw you all, I'm naming and shaming you, I never have to see you again in my entire life!", but they all have either knowledge of where I live or access to people who do, so I'll give them codenames: "Swinger", "Sleepyhead" and, because it shares many qualities with him, "Cthulhu".

Drives people insane, slimy, enjoys a nice long swim - they must have been separated at birth.
I'll start with the easiest one - "Swinger", the Idol (easiest to explain, not easy in other ways, sadly). Swinger is one of those people who you either despise and wish Polio upon, or adore, because he's just damn perfect. The only thing he ever did wrong was be illegal for me to touch inappropriately for 5 months of Lower 6th, and even that was just because he skipped a year. He treats Mathematics of the highest difficulty as if it were the 2 times table, and he even managed the Biblical feat of teaching me to dance. Because he's also an accomplished Ballroom Dancer. And a Maths whiz. Oh, and he's going to Oxford. To be perfectly honest, he's damn lucky I enjoy his existence, because I can see how people could consider lynching him, he does make you wonder exactly what you've been doing with your life occasionally. But I just can't hate him, he's too nice and too nice to look at. These sorts of crushes are nothing to worry about as long as you don't let them take over your life, and I suppose all I can give in the way of advice here is, well, don't try to emulate these guys too much. They're much better at what they do than you are.

The amount of bones you will break trying to teach yourself the Swing.
Also innocuous are the Innocent crushes. Have you ever just enjoyed someone's company for the sheer fact that they're nice and cute and lovely? No? You only like people for their genitalia? Well I'm ashamed of you, Constant Reader, and you should be too. I don't like Sleepyhead because I wish to have awful, wonderful sex with him, I like him because of his habit of falling asleep in lessons in a very cute manner. Simple as. He even did it while managing to keep his pen in his hand and on the page once, as if he were hoping some mystical force would take over his body during his nap, and solve the equation in the Maths book that he'd been struggling with before he succumbed to snoozing. It's something of a recurring joke: Maths, Biology, English, no subject is too interesting to fall asleep in. He once dribbled on the book we were reading in English, which elicited a reaction somewhere on the spectrum between mild humour and adulation from me. Don't get me wrong; if at some point pre-Cretzal he'd confided in me that he liked guys, my brain and heart would not have been the only organs to express appreciation, but sex isn't the main factor here (shockingly). Again, you don't need too much advice here. Just sit back and enjoy the cuteness.

But not too much, I don't want to be sued for dry-cleaning bills.
But, alas, now we enter murkier waters. The sky turns dark, the sea choppy, and the wind becomes a howling gale, for we are approaching the realm of Cthulhu, my example of a Singularity. It all started so normally - we met, found each other humorous, and became most excellent friends. As in, my friend who'd known me for 5 years was rather put out, and took to insinuating that we were a gay couple. You see, all this was before I came out as Bi, even to myself (more on that in later posts), so it's a mark of how much I loved Cthulhu as a friend when I came out to him first (much more on that in later posts). But, yes, sometimes there's someone who you just click with entirely, as in if they were female, or you were female, or they were gay, you'd be the power couple of the school.

And it damn near drives you mental if none of these things are the case.

1) This is an accurate representation of what I feel like when I consider him.
2) This is the second picture in a row that's to do with exploding heads - a little perturbing.
Do me a favour, Constant Readers, if you ever find yourself spending close to £10 just to deliver a bottle of alcohol you know he likes (that in itself cost £20) to his doorstep, complete with a 7 page handwritten note about your feelings, go home and drink the alcohol while burning the note. Or use the alcohol to fuel the burning if your crush is into spirits. Just don't ever think you can maintain that level of obsession, it is very very not worth it. It'd be easier and probably less psychologically damaging just to murder them (not that I endorse that either). I know it sounds cliché, but sometimes letting go is the best option for both parties. No matter how hard it is.
No, "throwing" doesn't count the same as "letting go". Bad Constant Reader.
As usual, we're open to criticisms, comments and offers of book deals at
Until next time,


Bonus points if you spotted the Panic! At The Disco quote! Also, "I chime in, haven't you people ever heard of closing the god-damn door," is something that Cthulhu made me think quite a lot.

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