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The Taxonomy of Crushes


Recently I tweeted about a funny guy crush, this being a crush on a funny guy.

“What other kind is there?”

this man demanded, daring me to write a blogpost about it. So here’s presenting the taxonomy of crushes.

Disclaimer: This is a work in progress and not comprehensive.

Type 1: The Normal Crush

This crush happens as a result of a steady diet of fairytales, romcoms and heavy doses of parental pressure to get married. The crushee may be:

  • Adarsh Bharatiya nari: Cooks well, prays, respects elders and looks bewildered when confronted by said crusher
  • A Good boy: Works for a prestigious company, respects elders and looks bewildered when confronted by said crusher

Type 2: The Refinement of Tastes Crush

This crush happens when the crusher is a bit older and has a sense of what he/she likes. Alternately this crush could happen early and set the tone for future crushes in his/her life. The crushee may be:

  • Funny man: This crush specifically occurs because the crusher is laughing hard and mistakes the surge of ‘happy’ chemicals to the brain, for love. That, plus a man on stage is hawt.
  • Independent woman: This crush may occur because the crusher unconsciously believes crushee will take care of him, the way mama did.

Type 3: Inaccessible Crushes

This crush happens because the crusher experiences a distance from the crushee and mistakes ensuing disappointment for affection. The crushee may be:

  • Hot Guy: Chiseled cheekbones, firm butt, broad shoulders – these always belong to a stranger who inhabits a different world from yours (usually a place of male facials, assistant directors and auditions). As crusher, you have nothing to say to him; you don’t have to. He is an object of beauty. Enjoy him.
  • The Celebrity: See above and add that they’re only ever visible on a digital screen. For the snooty intellectuals among you, your version spews words only on the digital screen or occasionally on paper (you old-fashioned thing).
  • Teacher/Boss: How kinky of you, you authority-loving crusher!

Type 4, Level 1: Forbidden Crushes

This crush happens because the crusher has been told to stay away from the crushee and confuses curiosity/rebellion for interest. The crushee may be:

  • Married: Specimens of this type surface ONLY after marriage (their marriage, that is). Maybe they were born married. But they’re cool, good-looking, loyal and….attached.
  • Partner/Ex of friend: Take the above and add an extra knife through your heart, because he’s married or in a relationship with your best friend. Now, even if they don’t work out, you’ll never be able to hit on him because he’ll become your friend’s ex.
  • Family member crush: Cousins, uncles (or aunts)….namely every member of the family tree except your own parents. Why the last disclaimer, you ask? Because that’s not a crush, that’s Oedipus and Elektra.

Type 4, Level 2: Bad idea Crushes

This crush happens because the crusher tells himself/herself to stay away from the crushee, has developed mild split personality disorder on account of excessive self-restraint and begins rebelling against himself/herself, thus confusing it all for interest. (see Type 4, Level 1 for an earlier stage of devolution). The crushee may be:

  • Frenemy: You *hate* them. You want to tear them apart. You want to sink poisonous fangs into them and crunch their bones. And umm…maybe you want to do them. Sigh, the drama of it.
  • Friend: NononononoABSOLUTELYNO! your mind is screaming. This is the stuff of romcoms. And regretful memories years later that began with ‘We used to be friends until umm…’. Beer should not be mixed with tequila or vodka.
  • Friend’s crush: BFFs share everything, don’t they? Not the man, uh uh. Keep your thoughts to yourself. Or bid your friendship goodbye.

Type 5: ‘WTF just happened?’ Crushes

This crush happens because life is random.

  • Hormone overdrive crush: Women can blame this on PMS (post and pre) and the period. Men blame this on, well, being men. *Shrug* It happens, that’s all.
  • Same sex crush (if you’re straight, the other way if you are): You were checking that girl out! Admit it, you have a man-crush. You’re left wondering what part fits where. Don’t bother. It’ll pass before you figure it out.
  • Sudden crush on familiar, mundane person: Hollywood could earn a third of their romcom revenues from this one situation alone. Cue a bright spotlight or sunlight that mysteriously shines only on one person in the entire street. They’re just saying hi back to you. Why are they shining so brightly? Maybe it’s just too much white balance or maybe they fell into a fairness cream ad.

Type 6, Level 1: Social Media Crushes

This crush happens because the crushers don’t get out enough, thus experiencing Vitamin D deficiency, which messes up their emotion-rationale processing system. The crushee is:

  • A Display Picture: The reason women’s profile picture changes get SO many likes is that women have figured out way ahead of men what their best angles, their most come-hither looks and flattering poses are. Men can do it too. Really, I’ve had dozens of DP crushes.
  • Tweets: Maybe you have to be a word lover for this but don’t you just lurrve, lurrve, lurrve some people’s tweets? Each new pearl-of-wisdom/wisecrack/random reflection brings on a fresh surge of happy chemical in your brain. For the non-verbally inclined, there’s always Instagram, Imgur, Flickr and Vimeo.

Type 6, Level 2: Ulta Crushes a.k.a. Backward Crushes

This crush happens because the crushers have reached the ultimate urbane lifestyle and are about to implode Fight Club style. (see Type 6, Level 2 for earlier stage in devolution). The crusher becomes inordinately obsessed with the attention of people who already provide him/her attention and mistakes this for attraction. The crushee may be:

  • Commenter/Liker: The reverse social media trail has been followed up; the fantasy is complete. Being liked is addictive; you want to be liked more and you like them for liking you.
  • Secret Santa: (This, I heard on the social media) They’re sending you gifts! How many crushes do that in real life???
  • Service Provider: He fixed your internet connection when it was down. She served you just what you were hoping for, in your dabba, twice last week. They’re always there! *Sigh* Isn’t that the stuff of happily-ever-after?

* Image courtesy stockimages on FreeDigitalPhotos.

Loss of appetite

Saw her today, after over three months
She’s plumper
Longish hair falling over her face
She’s about as appealing as a browned, over-ripe fruit now

I don’t find her attractive anymore
Suddenly I empathise with the male habit
of falling abruptly in and out of love with a body

My brief bi-curious flirtation is over.

More stereotyping

I was a trifle disappointed that this post (lying in my subconscious for over a year and in my drafts box for a few days) got so few comments. Mostly from women….and what they said was surprising. There was one man and what he said was surprising too.

Should I conclude that men are, in general, such egoistic creatures that they only enjoy reading about themselves? Or that they are too inhibited to admit that they enjoy the stimulation provided by semi-lesbian fantasies? Hmm…

Desiblogging classifies me as Bisexual…..aurrrgggghhhh….so much for trying to shatter the oldest stereotype in the world!! All I do is get slotted into another one. And coming out? Uh, no…I just haven’t had a chance to talk about it before.

I was most aghast and then amused when I looked at the sidebar and it looked like a Blogsphere Playboy-type of site. Still though, I like the title of Desi Devil’s post and certainly have no issues with the rating on the ‘Wicked Meter’!

So does that make me a tease, Devil?


Sometimes we are on the same train. I have a ‘subject-to-last-minute-change’ schedule. Maybe so does she. Is she a student? Or a working professional?

She dresses like a teenager would, if she had the acquired sense of style that someone at least a decade older would have. Her face is cold, impassive, seemingly indifferent to the world around her. Or perhaps, she’s just sleepy. And yet, her eyes are never ringed with dark circles.

She holds herself with the confidence of a woman in her late twenties at least. But her head is thrown back, like that of a very young child-girl. A mixture of pride…

Look how pretty I am!

and wonder

Oh, what a wonderful world!

And yet, her eyes stay lifeless. She holds my attention every time I see her.

She reminds me of a fresh peach. Clean, wholesome and full. A ripe peach is a delight for all the senses…the eyes, the nose, the skin and the tongue. The slight downy hair on her arms tells me that she’s either very young and uninitiated into the horrors of waxing or so cool that she doesn’t give a damn. Somehow she doesn’t seem to be intelligent or fire-blooded enough to be the latter and yet she doesn’t look quite that young either. Either way, it suits her. It makes her look a little less waxen and brings to her body the kind of vigorous life that I don’t see in her eyes.

I wonder idly at why I’m staring at another woman. Is she that beautiful? No, she isn’t. Striking would probably describe her better. She’s quite tall, taller than I am, which might be why I noticed her. But no, the first time I saw her, she was sitting on the edge of the three-seater, eyes downcast, her sharp bangs falling into the middle of her forehead, which she flicked back with a disconcerted toss.

Her lips might have been full if her mouth hadn’t been. Oh, how funny that sounds! What I mean is that she even has the look of a ripe peach, that looks like it will burst out of its skin any moment if you don’t take a bite.

She has a strong, well-proportioned body that might have been called androgynous if she didn’t have those curves. It adds to her mystique. She has a woman’s body, perfectly rounded, but she carries it like a man would, not weighed down by the fleshy curves like some women are.

I wonder sometimes what she sounds like, what she does all day, what her life must be like. But I realise I’m just following my compulsion to see people as human beings and not just bodies. In her case, I don’t care. She’s perfect and complete in my eyes and that is all she needs to be, to me. I don’t have any desire to know anything more of her than what I see. The perfect peach that shouldn’t turn into a human being with messy feelings and imperfect actions. I’m even glad that I get off the train before she does. That way I don’t even have room to speculate on what she does for a living.

I briefly speculate on whether these are my semi-lesbian fantasies. Its possible. I usually display this degree of interest in men I’m attracted to. Sometimes I do think of them in terms of food. But where the men have been strong, finely created flavours…..chocolate, wine, coffee, tequila….this is the first time I’ve thought of someone as a fruit. On retrospect, a woman wouldn’t feel like anything that’s been processed or cooked. She would have to be something basic, something right out of the earth…a fruit is all.

And perhaps the fact that I don’t stongly associate my identity with my gender makes it possible for me to fit just as easily into a man’s tastes. When I told Sensorcaine about this, she said, “Well, not lesbian, bisexual perhaps. Just think, instead of 3 billion, you have a choice of 6 billion human beings now!”

That’s a thought now. But beyond my intellectualisation I find if I get to thinking of making love to a woman, the idea loses its appeal altogether. I’m content with admiring my peach-woman.

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