Meno had an interesting post about crushes. She's been married for a long time and sometimes her mind goes back to being single, or some random stranger who smiled at her at the grocery store, or some movie star that flips her button. (Not that button, you pervs.)
Being with the same man for almost ten years, this got me to thinking about some of my crushes in the past. The times when I'd show up at someone's house, hair loaded with Aqua Net, hoping the girl's brother would come home from band practice and notice my new leg warmers. There was the friend back in college who would buy me beer and listen to all my stories about my current relationship. There was Big B, who I loved so much I thought my heart would burst (not that he'd be there to put it back together. For some reason, that didn't seem to bother me.) And then came Rex. Sweet, consistent, ethical to a fault Rex. And oh so cute.
I remember when we first started dating. One night we were laying on the couch in my parent's living room, his arms wrapped around my waist. Nothing was going on, but everything was.
I miss those times.
And to be truthful, sometimes old crushes still pop into my brain. Or my mind lands a little bit longer than I expect on the lone daddy at a preschool party.
I could feel guilty about it, but I don't. I know who I am and would never jeopardize this life I lead with Rex. A life I love. It is not a man that I miss - but the newness of first love.
In an effort to rekindle this spark, I've started wearing my hair down again. I've started putting on makeup. I even wear socks with my shoes and shave my arm pits more than once a month... it's that crazy.
Something must be working, because the other day, flowers arrived at my door from Corporate Clingon himself. Then he surprised me with dinner out (Denny's with a coupon - I'll take it!) He is even excited about a Halloween party this evening. Seriously. Excited. He marked the time down on this blackberry.
With all this new found attention from my husband, no one could be more surprised than me when today, with ten minutes alone, I stopped at a garage sale, only to have this incredibly beautiful black man with huge muscles check me up and down. As I picked up a pair of ratty Nikes, he said, "Man, how tall are you?" I told him. "Wow, you didn't seem so tall when you were sitting in the car." I responded, "That's because the man upstairs graced me with long ass legs." Um... That was no Mama P talking. That was my alter ego, pre-marriage Hot Mama cranking out the one-liners to the cop on Flirt Patrol. Muscle Man, not breaking a beat: "Yes he did. Mmmm, yes he did."
I did what any cool headed woman would do. I giggled "tee hee! Tee hee!" dropped the shoes and fell on my way into the car, driving like a speed demon to help Rex fix sprinkler pipes.
Anyone else feel the same way I do about crushes?