To the crush (you totally know I like you by now, right?):
The first time I saw walking sex it was streaking across the quad, six feet and strolling, in a t-shirt drenched in stares. I was sitting on a wall and playing with my hair and trying not to notice, which was hard when he stopped straight in front of me.
“Hey, a bunch of us are going to the hill,” he said, but the second his shadow touched my shoes I fazed out, and when he said, “you’ll come, right?” I was vaguely aware that he’d asked me a question, but more aware that every girl on the lawn was trying hard to hear us. I was also terrified but it would be social suicide to say so.
Instead I said “I’ll come,” but it was to my Kate Spade tote and not to him. The hill was freezing so he grabbed me in his jacket but I was so nervous that I pulled away. It took three weeks before I let him kiss me and another three before we were in bed.
At 3 am we ate chocolate chicks from his Easter basket and he threw the tinsel over the blankets and he went, “I didn’t know you were shy until I liked you.” And I said, “I wasn’t shy until you liked me.” And for the first time I couldn’t explain something with words so I let him take off more of my clothes instead.
So then when you came up to me and said hi at the party and tried to kiss me and I brushed you away with my hand, the way I do with my hair sometimes, it’s the same as above. Except I haven’t taken off my clothes in explanation, though you know, that can change at some point.
[MATTHEW PERRY - AM I THE IMAGINARY CRUSH?]