It feels so middle school to admit to having a "crush" on someone, but how else can you describe that gut reaction that you have about some people? Even years after awkward eighth-grade interactions, the easiest way to explain it is that cheesy "butterflies in your stomach" feeling.
Crushes are all about the intangibles — there's no real logic behind them, and they happen with little-to-no conscious action. You can't devise a strategy to create a "spark" — it just happens.
Many crushes have a specific moment when something just clicks. During one of my Tufts Dance Collective practices last year, my group began playing an awkward icebreaker game. It was kind of like musical chairs, except the "chairs" were the men in our dance, and when the music stopped, the women were supposed to straddle the nearest guy for about a minute and chat, like a weird version of speed dating.
The first round, I "landed" on one guy I'd never met before. We introduced ourselves, talked for a minute and joked around about once living in Bush Hall. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but I remember thinking, "Whoa, who is this cute boy with the big smile underneath me?"
There were a couple of other funny, attractive guys who I met at that rehearsal, but there was just something about that first guy that I couldn't put my finger on exactly. It was the initial spark.
Sometimes a guy sits down next to you on the first day of class and you spend the rest of the semester hoping you'll be assigned to a group project together. Sometimes it's a "crush from afar," like that girl you pass every Monday and Wednesday on the way to your 10:30 a.m. class and wonder if she's noticing you too. For others, crushes develop over time as you start to see a friend in a new light.
Still, what makes you notice someone you've never officially met or changes how you feel about a friendship?
Try asking someone to explain why he or she is interested in someone. You're never going to get, "Well, he wants to have two kids down the line, generally agrees with my political views, and respects my neat-freak tendencies." The logical life-building qualities aren't what make you notice someone or draw you into them.
Instead of compatibility characteristics, it's the inexpressible "notice factor" that kicks off many crushes. It's the aura of the girl you pass on your way to class, the way that guy performs on stage in his band or someone's smile during an icebreaker game that gets you to notice him or her.
It's the cosmic significance you assign to coincidences — when a crush from afar suddenly transfers into your Spanish class and you optimistically wonder if it's fate. Or when Tom waxes poetic in "(500) Days of Summer" (2009) about how his crush likes the same obscure music and weird hobbies that he does, as if these were signs that they were meant to be together.
It's also the smile that crosses your face when thinking about some little, quirky characteristic of your crush, like when he uses your shoulder to drum along to the beat while listening to music. My housemate always giggles as she describes how her girlfriend picks the lint off of her sweaters when they're hanging out and how she thinks it's adorable.
"Just because she likes the same bizzaro crap you do doesn't mean she's your soul mate," Tom's little sister advises him in "(500) Days of Summer." She's right — crushes don't necessarily lead to anything. After all, how many stories of unrequited love have you heard, right? But at the same time, daydreaming and entertaining the possibility of true chemistry is exciting.
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Emily Maretsky is a senior majoring in engineering psychology. She can be reached at Emily.Maretsky@tufts.edu.
