Interplayful

They say it's the province of teenaged girls. A temporary infatuation. They say crushes don't lead to anything.

Bullshit.

Every close friendship I've ever made began as some sort of crush. (Which is not to say that every crush turns into a close friendship, but you get my meaning...)

So yeah, I have a crush on someone, a new friend. There's no chance of it turning into any sort of romantic or even sexual connection. I doubt I'm his type at all. I don't think he's my type, either—not in the sense of boyfriend or lover compatibilty—but I absolutely fucking adore him.

It's been a long time since I've felt this quickening, a tug deeper than lust.

For me at least, intimacy is always uncategorizable, always quirky. There's nothing to figure out anymore. From here on in, it's all about opening and flowing. Sex and love don't fit together in any conventional way in my life, but that means diddly squat. "Fitting together" is overrated. What matters is the interplay: the irrepressible, inexpressible, unquantifiable interplay.

He's intrigued; he's drawn to me. There maybe a little bit of sexual something-or-other going on for him in that propulsion, but I'm 99.9% sure it's minor compared to the friendly intellectual emotional pull. No matter. He's totally hot, fun, and a tad mysterious. I'm hooked.

Damn, it's good to be alive.