Skip to main content

Crush! Crush! Crush!


I have a new crush… like a real one. A real, live one! Not that the previous ones were dead or anything. They were very much alive. They were just not ‘in the flesh’. The likes of Wentworth Miller, who, it seems, didn’t think that the 20 year age difference between us made our relationship hard enough. He had to go ahead and rub his being gay in my face.
* Takes deep breathes and puts Ryan Lewis’ Same Love on repeat* 
There was also Ian Somerhalder… not so much Ian as the vampire he plays in The Vampire Diaries. He is hot but unfortunately he doesn’t meet criterion 2/2: ‘Being Alive’.

Unfortunately, I don't do 'undead'.

However, kuteseka ni kwa muda. Good things come to those who wait. Hope is that thing with wings… Okay, I don’t have the time to quote clichés. I have a new crush! You poor dear, you probably have no idea why I am this excited. You see, having a crush is not about the warm, fuzzy feelings and the sudden realization that every bad mushy love song was written with the two of you in mind. No, having a new crush is all about the thrill of having a new person to stalk. The less you know about the person, the more exhilarating the search will be.  It’s been a while and I know I’ve grown a little rusty but I’ll try to remember the basics so that I can break it down to you.

Personal Information. I don’t need to point out that the name, home and work address, phone number, KRA pin, blood type, BMI, police records, football team, web history, Facebook username, twitter handle and possibly kik username are the first things that you need to find out. No, unlike what the movies want to make you believe, you don’t need to hack into the police database for this stuff. You just need to infiltrate your crush’s inner circle. Work your way to the middle without causing any ripples. Should this fail to get you the desired information; you can always use death threats, blackmail and catnapping (no, we do not kidnap. What do you take me for? Some psycho?) as ammo.

Armed with this information, you can now find ways to strategically place yourself under your crush’s nose. Sit at their table at lunch; creep behind them in the book aisles in the library (that shit is romantic, trust me); acquire a sudden taste in his favourite football team (for God’s sake try to acquire some actual facts. Statements like ‘Ozil has such pretty, big eyes’ will get you booted. Try something like: ‘Ozil made two assists in their last game.’); show up at his favourite bar, ice cream parlour, coffee house, mutura outlet, grocery… the opportunities are infinite. 
With eyes like that who needs horoscopes?


Do NOT make initial contact. Look pretty and be constantly in his face and eventually he’ll get around to talking to you. (The talk may be in the form of a restriction order but let’s hope that it doesn’t get to that.) When he eventually does, make sure that you are armed with wit, sassiness and a great sense of humour… or a great pair of boobs. Make sure to casually bring his interests into the conversation. If possible, quote some of his tweets back to him. He will be taken aback at how similar the two of you are… how very soul-mate like… Keep initial contact short so as to build his anticipation.

At this point everything should pretty much fall into place if you’ve played your cards right. The lover will gradually turn to the beloved as the crush gets to know and consequently like you more and more. You’ll get into the habit of speaking 10 times a day. You’ll do all you favourite things together (in my case, this involves watching Juno 12 times). You’ll be happy. However, unless he’s the ONE, one of you will soon get bored. The exhilaration of the hunt will die down. You’ll fade into barely friends, acquaintances, and eventually… nothing.

So, about my tall, well built, light-skinned new crush who smells like sunshine after a gloomy morning…? I should get down to business. I don’t even know his name. I should, but I won’t. You see, I already know how the story will end. He’s not the ONE.  

Comments

  1. hahaha stalker alert ! lol good one ivy

    ReplyDelete
  2. haha nice one, very useful.

    can i share my blog?, visit anytime =)
    http://loveisthekey4all.blogspot.com/

    i love ur posts!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Girl Code... Not Neccesarily in that Order.

"The only rule is don't be boring and dress cute wherever you go. Life is too short to blend in." Society can be such a drag. What, with all the unwritten, unsaid rules and codes. Guys have an elaborate ‘Bro Code’. In fact there’s a whole website . You will be surprised that Rule no. 1 of it is not the (in)famous ‘Bros before whores’. Girls have their own code too, though it’s not set in stone and varies among different groups of girls. The Girl code is especially tricky to girls like me who aren’t exactly programmed like other girls. So, I have a list of essential rules in the Girl Code. Some come with disclaimers and modifications. Some are universal while others are just stuff that my friends and I have come up with along the way. 1.        Should a Girl be critically injured, her Side-Girls are to never make jokes about it, unless the hurt Girl does first. I love my girlfriends…very much, but if said critical injury has risen as a result of a fall (wh

Of Doing Milk and Staying Young

Boredom inspires/ drives me to do the unthinkable... like texting him to say how I couldn’t stand pretending that I didn’t like him...or drinking a glass of milk. I do not DO milk. And no, I am not lactose intolerant. As Max in ‘2 Broke Girls’ aptly points out, “Poor people don’t just run out to buy anti-biotics. You man up, grow a pair, and stare germs in the face...booyah!” I may not be poor but I am definitely not rich. People in my economic bracket don’t get fancy diseases like eczema. We get rashes, and if you want to get all fancy then you will have to do with ‘allergies’. So, no, I am not lactose intolerant. Where I come from it’s just a plain, simple ‘I don’t drink milk.’ But here I am, with a now half empty glass of milk. (I hope you can detect the pessimism there or else my pun will have gone to waste) I suppose the ‘Do Milk, Stay Young’ campaign hasn’t gone to waste. All that sexual objectification of infants wasn’t in vain. “Sexual objectification?” you ask. Yes,

Fighting for my right to be wrong.

I feel as if our relationship has been progressing at an admirable rate... progressing enough for me not to just assume that someone somewhere is reading this, but to hope that this is so. Today has been a Monday, true to form. Murphy s law through and through. Anything that  could go wrong DID go wrong...but I don't want to bore you with the gory details. I do need to mention, though, that I was diagnosed with alarmingly high levels of typhoid fever. To be frank, I didn't feel THAT ill. I was simply mildly sick with a stomach ache and a head ache but the pharmacist wouldn't give me any meds until he had run some tests.Even after the diagnosis I still felt pretty amazing considering the shocked expression on the lab tech's face as he tries to make me understand how 'grave' my situation was. Dad wasn't as flippant about it as I was (His own face-to-face encounter with typhoid had confined him to bed for a week and he couldn't believe that my body was