August 15, 2020

You Can Run, But You Can’t Hide

posted on: Thursday November 8, 2001

by Kaitlin Fluet

A crush can be a traumatic thing. I’m starting to think I should start a support group for those victims of particularly extensive distressing obsessions. Everybody has a story to tell. We could sit around in a circle and generally be supportive of each other. I can think of a purely hypothetical situation that would cause distress to one or both parties involved in a typical crush. By the means of this example, we can all practice being supportive of one another for when the real stories come out. Let’s say, for example, that the setting is kindergarten. In this kindergarten, there is a small girl with pigtails, thick glasses and some missing teeth. Her mother is the teacher who presides over this particular class. The girl is playing on the jungle gym one day when she notices a real stud walk in with his runny nose and sad eyes. “Wow,” she thinks. “What a dreamboat.” Clearly, this girl does not think boys are gross. She climbs down from the jungle gym to get a closer look. This is, obviously, where the purely hypothetical saga begins. Over time, the boy and the girl color pictures and build irregular block constructions together. The boy is happy with his new playmate. As is typically the case, however, the girl is not satisfied with this mere child’s play. The girl wants more. What does she do to get more? The obvious course of action is to chase her sad-eyed boy while pushing a toy box after him. The boy subsequently cowers in a corner while the girl (with the toy box) is restrained by her caught shoelace. Once free, the boy runs to the teacher and tearfully tattles on the psychotic little fiend. Evidently, the boy is playing hard to get. The fiend gets ten minutes in timeout for her antics from her teacher/mother. She spends the ten minutes plotting her next design to score the hunk. Upon her release, the girl puts her next plan into action. She grabs the boy’s stuffed monkey (keep this G-rated, folks) when he wanders too close. In the slight altercation that ensues, an eye pops off and some stuffing falls out of said monkey (I said G-rated, please). Needless to say, the girl is severely reprimanded for her wildness. She pleads that the incident was a crime of love, but to no avail. For the rest of the day, the girl sits alone in the teacher’s room. When she finally liberates herself, she sees the boy has escaped for home. Don’t worry, she’ll really get him next time. Later that same week, the girl plots further desperate measures. When she spots the object of her desire, she carefully avoids him. This tactic is to get the boy to develop a false sense of security. Much like the cheetah stalks an unsuspecting baby antelope, she watches and waits. Patience, however, is not her strong suit. Suddenly she leaps into action, lunging at the boy. Out of unadulterated shock and fear, the boy invokes the “fight or flight” response. The situation has become a matter of survival. He manages to dodge my, errr… her, greedy claws and she falls just short. Instead of tackling him like she originally intended, she instead grabs hold of the sad-eyed boy’s pants. The teacher sentences her to a week without playtime for exposing his pink little butt to the other kindergarteners, and thus giving them their first pornographic experience. Now, in such a scenario, the boy would imaginably carry the resulting embarrassment and hatred for a significant portion of his life. The boy would probably avoid the girl for all of grade school, high school, and would inevitably go to college as far in upstate New York as possible. The boy and the girl probably would never talk. The boy is forever scarred, and the girl is even more disillusioned and confused about the inner workings of the male mind. (Don’t they want you to pull their pants off?) So the question is, who really needs to undergo crush-trauma treatment? Is it the appropriately titled “crusher” or the forever “crushed” who needs the help? You decide.

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