3 ways to lose your non-existent lover
Joanna Mikulski
Tuesday Voice
Another Valentine's Day has come and gone, and still I'm waiting for my roses. I'd take them in any color, although I find yellow or pink more thoughtful than the traditional red. However, despite my paltry demands, my crush has yet to send the flower deliveryman bounding up to my doorstep, bouquet in hand. In fact he hasn't sent anything at all, no truffles, no dinner invitations, not even a few lousy conversation hearts.
I would think he would have the decency to give me something for my months of distant adoration. I smile at him, laugh at the jokes that he tells to his friends in class and attempt to stumble his way when I spot him on the quad. We've never had an actual conversation, nothing beyond a short introduction and a few hellos, but I know that he knows what I'm thinking.
Yet, his blatant disregard for my wishes has led me to believe that it's time for me to take drastic measures. I need to stand up, take charge and empower myself as a woman deserving respect. Four days after Valentine's Day with only a card from my parents tacked to the refrigerator, I grow more convinced with each passing minute that the moment has come for me to dump my crush.
Dumping a crush isn't a task to be taken lightly. It's an art form, a final, poetic means of ridding the heart and mind of someone who just isn't worthy of the obsession. To put it simply, there are rules to be followed. After consulting my roommates, we developed a number of dump-your-crush guidelines.
First, crush-dumpings should occur only in public places at the height of daily crowds, like South Dining Hall during the dinner rush, the hallway of DeBartolo Hall at the change of class or Reckers in the middle of the post-parietals rush. Heartland on a Thursday night might also work, if he isn't Puerto Rican.
Of course, the crush should be confronted when sober. Drunkenness might numb him to the full effects of the break-up: the shame, the embarrassment and the sensation that many pairs of eyes are intently staring at him. The confusion about why someone, to whom he has never spoken, is yelling at him.
Furthermore, the declaration that the crush is over should be loud, convincing and final. I imagine that a practice crush-dumping might be advisable to ensure that the crush-who-never-sent-flowers knows exactly what's happening. After all, the crush-dumper must be prepared for all possibilities, including the prospect of the crush suddenly displaying signs of romantic interest. My roommates and I can tell you that stranger things have happened.
Yet, as I ponder the proper time and place to finally dump my crush, I wonder if I should give him another chance. Perhaps the flower shop lost his order. Or maybe, on Valentine's Day, I shouldn't have waited for him to shower me with gifts but instead tried to contact him. I could have sent him a valentine, dropped a few well-chosen conversation hearts on his desk or asked him whether he had plans for the evening. An extended dialogue might have even ensued.
I think that I'll let the fate of my crush hang in the balance for another day or two. Until I decide the appropriate course of action, I'll continue to wait for my flowers, a perfect ribbon-bound rose bouquet, from my Prince Charming with everything but ESP.
Joanna Mikulski would like to thank DB, L-Train, K-Swiss, Patti and Evan for their help and note that she is not thinking of any crush in particular.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
All Viewpoint Stories for Tuesday, February 18, 2003
