LuminoMagazine.com

Boy Crazy

Written by MELISSA E. KOSS

Monday, 13 November 2006

While playing cards with my sister and cousins last weekend, my cousin Anna blurted out (out of nowhere), “Who is Louis Hoois?”

When I was 15 and seemingly embarrassed to have a crush on the younger brother of a boy my sister dated, it seems that I told everyone that I had a crush on “Louis Hoois” (an unfortunate name, even by Mother Goose’s standards). Therefore, I devised an illogical alphanumerical code to disguise the real name of my crush. My cousin Anna, who has a mind for word games, has apparently been trying to decode my crush code for years, whereas I had completely filed away the nickname and the crush long before high school graduation.

However, I can recall being quite crazy about my crush in a 15 year old way. I had first hour American History with Louis, second hour ninth grade English, fourth hour Spanish and fifth hour gym, and I would have written all of his papers and run ten miles just to get his attention. I passed him in the hallway between sixth and seventh hour, and it was during this passing that my dear girlfriend Elise would point out to me that his head was actually too large for his body, that he seemed to me looking at me on Monday but not on Tuesday, etc. When I was not walking down the hallway or daydreaming about the studly “Louis Hoois,” I was writing notes to Elise and my other girlfriends expounding on the god-like beauty (in my 15 year old eyes) of Louis Hoois.

Elise saved all of the notes we passed, all of the notes from four years of high school and countless other crushes, dances and fights. She presented a box full of these notes, complexly folded to look like origami, to me a few months ago and said, “You were a lot more boy crazy than I remember you being.”

I was so disgusted with myself that I didn’t open a single note, or even touch the box. All these years later, my past actions have got me wondering, Am I boy crazy?

As a columnist who writes about relationships, as a woman who is single (additionally, as a woman who is single in the workplace), I am asked, on a regular basis, “Melissa, how’s your love life?” (Sometimes the more meek or experienced don’t even say “love life;” rather, they’ll gesture or shrug in its place.) I do not mind being asked the question; in fact, I have found ways of answering it that cause people to laugh or at least not to respond with the standard “Oh, I’m sure he’s out there somewhere. You just have to be patient”. But some part of me is curious: am I being asked this question on a daily basis because I have, at sometime, presented myself as boy crazy?

Now, I know that I can flirt with the best of them; and, like any sane person would, I leverage my talent to my advantage when appropriate by easily recalling details, quickly creating inside jokes or lasting memories with more or less strangers, or creatively implanting anecdotes into the conversation so as not to be misconstrued as a “Megan,” “Melinda” or “Michelle.” I like to think that these flirtations are intellectually based and involve little to no batting of the eyes, flipping of the hair or laughing at unfunny jokes. In the end, no one is impressed by such absurd feminine behaviors. But the fact of the matter is that I do not have a recording of the evening to rewind in order to observe my actual behaviors and mannerisms. Perhaps I am actually a bubble-gum chewing, eyelash batting, beach-blanket-movie kind of girl. Perhaps I am continuously blah-bah-blahing about boys and men and relationships. Perhaps I am boy crazy. And while it strikes me as juvenile behavior to melt at the sight of eye candy, I haven’t been jazzed up about a date in a very long time. I have actually attempted to simulate excitement by telling people about the date, buying a new outfit, etc., but to no avail.

I believe that I can learn a lot from those less cynical souls around me. As such, I’ve been watching my 6-year-old niece, who has her first substantial crush on a boy. When she is around him, she can do nothing but laugh giddily and smile brightly. She is incapable of carrying on a conversation or concentrating. Once, she was so overwhelmed by her infatuation that she ran up to her crush and bit his bum.

Based on all of this, would it be such a bad thing if I felt something strong enough to make me act a little crazy? Would it be so bad to have feelings so strong bottled up inside of me that I had to manifest them physically in order to deal with and outwardly express how I felt? It might be liberating to spend a little time as a well-rounded woman who goes ga-ga for a man (and hopefully, as opposed to my 15 year old crush, he has reciprocal feelings).

And, if it turns out I’ve been boy crazy all these years, I’ve kept it in check. Or, at the very least, I have yet to bite anyone’s bum.

• "A Single Serving" appears second and fourth Mondays every month, exclusively in Lumino Magazine. E-mail Melissa at m.koss@yahoo.com. Photo of Melissa by Anne Coloso.

Comments

mom
Written by Guest on 2006-11-13 18:14:48

I like this column and you didn't mention your niece's name or the person she is infatuated with. Very nice.