on a gay man.
At least I think it’s a crush.
It might just be a mild infatuation. Or a random desire. Or a fascination with the man having less to do with anything desirous or lustful.
I mean, I don’t want to kiss him (I’d probably giggle really loud if that ever happened) and I don’t want to see him naked. Hell, I don’t even want to see him shirtless. Although after spending the better part of yesterday morning thinking about it, he’d probably look damn good shirtless. I think he might be a runner. He looks fit.
But I am enamored.
It’s sort of the way I fell for Obama. Something about being present for a great speech while the speaker is wearing a well cut suit and has good hair. It just works. I mean, there’s a lot more to my Obama love (his politics for one. My happiness at the end of the Bush era for another.) And there’s a lot more to my Team Paul (that’s my nickname for him) fascination.
He is on the different side of my political fence. But when he speaks I feel like he gets it. He knows what needs to be done. He’s practical, but I think unafraid of making unpopular decisions during a difficult time. He seems to be a good person in a crisis.
And that is something I admire. Because, me, no, I do awful in crisis. I crumble. I cry. I shake. I talk fast (pyschologists refer to it as pressured speech when it happens in a manic phase.) I sort of lose my cool. And when you don’t have a lot of “cool” to begin with, it’s basically a disaster.
So, when I am confronted with someone who seems like he or she can handle that crisis, I attach. And sometimes they become that friend in a clutch. And sometimes I just admire from afar while perfecting the art of making a fool of myself everytime I speak to the person.
Team Paul and I – we’re in the latter category. There was the “aw fuck!” incident of 2004 (I think it was 2004). And then there was the time I called him a girl. And the time he caught me napping. And that time I was completely unable to answer that oh so loaded question of “how are you?”
I wish I could be more in control of my idiocy when I was around him. I wish I could have a conversation and not find myself wanting to fall back to my safe role of loveable fool. I’m actually pretty smart. And I have good ideas. And I should share them. But instead of being that person, I become the person who talks in pressured speech and makes snarky comments at inappropriate times.
I like to think that in a parallel universe, I’m much more in control of this idiocy and Team Paul and I are great friends. In fact, perhaps he hires me to work for him. It’s a comforting thought. That there’s a version of me out there that knows how to be cool on occasion.