Honestly…I Have A Crush On A Guy From The Shop
Dear Reader,
Your dilemma is a perfect condensation of the ‘I have admired you from a distance for far longer than I have ever continued with a hobby’ phenomenon which I safely assume the vast majority of people have experienced at one point in time or another. And that’s beautiful. Any self-important blockhead who likes to think they are above it is clearly in denial and a liar. There comes a time, however, when you’re required to shake the cartoon-ised love hearts from your vision and settle on a defining verdict; do you manifest your many hours of unrequited observation into the physical world, or do you succumb to the widely accepted realisation that glamorised meet-cutes rarely lead to the ignition of twin flames, and are better left outside to die in the cold? Quite, but as said Bukowski, “Love breaks my bones, and I laugh”. No pain, no gain, if you will.
I can’t give a precise estimation on what you might stand to gain or in which sphere of your life, though. If like myself you are characteristically pessimistic when it comes to the technicalities of having your needs met, you might just catch that metaphorical boat in time and later berate yourself for waking up each morning in a never-ending free-to-all showing of Groundhog Day next to a person you despise. Or alternatively, you may experience a rare moment of clarity, forget about the boy in the shop through a gruelling regime of conditioning to convince yourself you’re better than impractical fantasies, and wake up each morning in a never-ending free-to-all showing of Groundhog Day next to a person you despise. Either scenario makes me feel out of breath to even type into fruition. Whichever way round you look at it, you expose yourself as vulnerable to a world of interminable emotional torture.
On the other hand, how about we cut the despondent, egotistical shit and weigh up our (your) options? That sounds delightful.
Close your eyes and conceptualise the situation you have found yourself in so many times before. You see Shop Boy. You perceive Shop Boy. You blink and picture countless features in which you are running hand-in-hand through plush green fields, laughing, wearing flowing white bedsheets and flanked by a litter of retriever puppies. Very good. Beyond this, though, what’s the deal? Do you know this mystery suitor beyond your obsessive and borderline threatening appreciation for his exterior? If the answer, as I suspect, is ‘no’, and you remain hellbent as ever on securing a future (behind or in front of jail cell bars) which involves your beloved, a plan must be formulated with swift immediacy.
Talking is, generally speaking, a sure-fire way to engage in conversation. I don’t mean in any sort of caution-to-the-wind fashion of excruciatingly over-sharing your too-regular bowel movements. We have the internet for that. Instead, treat it as a twelve-step integration process to master the peaks and troughs of severe romance addiction. Enquire as to where the carrots/ice lollies/condoms might be kept. Once you reach this steppingstone, hop onto the next. Make a shrewdly timed comment about the weather that day, or how it’s just impossible to find some good customer service from a man these days, finessed by a wink and a hair-flick. Move one space forward. Ask him about his weekend plans and gauge at what number the mallet shoots his score up to on the lonely-o-meter. If you fall off the wagon or the wheels grind to a halt, move back to your previous position. Or give up, if your plight has lasted months and come close but with no cigar. Can you see what I’m getting at here?
Sometimes, or all of the time, we enjoy the dream of someone far more than the reality of keeping them as constant company. Luck is manufactured, and hardly anything transpires as a coincidence. You can dig up any carrot of your choosing, but if the horse is not inclined to bite, you can’t force said carrot down its throat and watch it very slowly choke.
Perhaps your hard grafting will pay you in benefits a-plenty. We live in a world which is increasingly far-removed from the constraints of gender expectations and societal norms. Be bold, if you want. Shift your weight into that first move. Ask for that date yourself. To many, tenacity is a major box-ticker, and you may just find yourself living out that sun-dappled daydream with your supermarket eye candy one day not long from now. Perhaps, not for lack of trying, you won’t. And what happens then? Whatever you would like to.
You can’t wish a date, a relationship, or a future into existence if the grass happens not to be greener on that famous ‘other side’. Other side of what? In accordance with my categorical atheism, we all have one chance during the span of our lives to chase opportunity, fortune, and most of all happiness. If your pursuit of this ethereal, never-quite-in-reach, celestial joining of souls leads you to something tangible and offers you a sense of achievement, then I would say that’s a job well done on your part. But if there are any retrospective lapses which reveal you’ve wasted months of your time which could have been better spent disparately to over-worshipping a man on a very high pedestal, you’ll be ashamed to say that you didn’t prioritise yourself sooner. If at first you don’t succeed, let sleeping dogs lie. On certain occasions, it’s best to maintain a generous arm’s length away, just like the North Star; perfectly visible, yet always unattainable, like two ships passing in the night.
by Emma Doyle
(Staff Love & Relationships Writer & Agony Aunt)
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