The first crush I remember was on a boy named Matt Brown. He had the bowl cut brown hair I now associate with the early 90s, a calm demeanor and sleepy eyes. Once, he said my name in class and I nearly fell out of my chair. It made me feel uncomfortably happy and irrationally excited.
Even at thirty, this is how my crushes still feel. Coincidentally, my fondness for dark haired stoner boys persists too.
Someone I love once told me…
Success is a rubber chicken,
You work so hard to get it,
then, once you have it, you wonder what use it is
He meant this in the context of professional success, but I can’t help but think about it equating to romantic success.
This is when people like to remind you that it’s about the journey and not the destination, as though all of that suffering and wanting is the whole point.
And well, for lack of a better way to put it,
I am thirty and still boy-crazy
What do I do with you once you’re mine?
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This is my attempt to write thirty poems or poem-like things in thirty days.
This is two of thirty.