Kicked In The Butt By Love

Look...

I've been in love before. Lots of times. I'm talkin' real love here, sports fans. Talkin' The Big L, Baby! Heart of my heart and all of that. Soulmate City. The kind of love where you say, "Damn the potatoes! Full speed ahead! I fucking love you, you hot mamma you!" and you don't really care all that much how the object of your desire reacts. You only know that if you don't say it loud and proud your chest may very well explode what with trying to contain the big ass wonder and joy that your poor throbbing soul is pumping into your poor throbbing head (or something like that). Hey, Sparky! We're talkin' L-O-V-E here!

Then we have crushes.

I don't know about you but it seems like most of the women I end up with crushes on are just too damn young. Of course we have to factor in my age in order to get a clear view of what I'm talking about. I'm fifty-one, man. At this point in my life Drew Barrymore is too damn young. Sure, it's a pisser but what am I gonna do about it? Women my age are hanging out in malls riding wheelchairs, for Christ's sake! Trust me on this, I know of what I speak! And, Hey! While we're dwelling on women who are too damn young and people who hang out in malls let me tell you a little story. I promise it won't hurt and you just might learn something you can use later in life...

Back in 1988 I worked in a store in the Beverly Center, a slightly famous upscale mall located here in Los Angeles. All in all it was a pretty cool gig. We had songs on tape and customers would come in, sing along, and leave with a tape of themselves butchering the fuck out of a Beatles tune or whatever. It was fun most of the time and somehow our store became a sort of a hangout for both pre and early teenaged girls! Wanna talk about job stress? Try being a red, white, and blue blooded American guy in his early thirties who has killer teenage babettes in real tight clothes asking if you'd like to be their daddy! Man, that's stress in Cinerama and six track Dolby stereo! I'd go home at night, deal with myself for about twenty minutes, sleep, and wake up, shave my palms, and head off for work.

But enough about me...

One of the chicklets that became a regular fixture was a thirteen-year-old actress/model named Angora. You may have heard of her. Maybe not.

She was beautiful, gang, I shit you not! A dollface with a side salad! It was as if the word "dollface" was created just for her. She dressed great, looked great, smelled great. Just fucking great, daddy-o! She made me insane with all sorts of nasty thoughts that I really don't think I have to explain right here and now. Does the name Humbert ring a bell? I mean, Kee-Reist! This girl was on my Christmas wish list for sure!

But enough about me...

These kids would hang out in the mall after school and on weekends. As the assistant manager I was allowed to give our services away to anyone I liked at any time o' day and there were a couple of these girls that I'd let do pretty much anything they wanted. It was an honor and a thrill just to see them smile. It got to the point where it almost seemed like the primary focus of my job was making people smile and if they were cute and female so much the better.

Everything else was just grunt work, psychic payment in order to get the chance to do the smilework I felt I was born to do. I loved it! Their eyes would light up and their fresh, painfully pretty faces would sparkle like a pinball machine. At times I felt like a really small god, "Your wish is granted, my child! Go forth and have a bitchin' day!" It was cool.

Anywayz...

One day Angora came into the store and asked if she could do a song for free. I was bored that day and felt a little snotty. "Nope!" I said, "What do you think this is? Your house?"

"Oh, please?" she asked, "Please, please, please, please, please?"

"Nope." I snapped, "No way."

She wrapped her arms around me and kissed my cheek, whispering soft and low in my ear, "Pleeeaaassseee?'

BLAMMO!

At that exact moment I fell in love with her. She was beautiful, playful, young, warm, firm, slightly weird, and one hell of a cheek kisser.

"Well..." I pleaded, "If I give you a free song will you marry me?" Hey! I was serious, man.

"I can't." she said.

"Why not?"

"Because," she replied, "You're just too fucking old!"

WHAMMO!

It hit me like a wet brick. What the fuck was I thinking? I was asking a thirteen-year-old girl to marry me! She was so underage it was insane. Besides I was already in love with a twenty-three-year old woman that worked in a store across the way from ours. Like I was gonna throw all of that away and go spend a few years getting raped in prison for a thirteen-year-old girl? Geeze! Was I nuts? It was time for me to get a king-sized grip and I'd best do it on the double!

I laughed it off, gave her a free song, and tried to act casual about it. I gotta tell you though, it hurt me bad. I fell in and out of love in less than a minute. Ouch! It was like I had a mini heart attack or something. What the hell? Sure, our love would never happen but at least I had a grip.

Ah, well...

But

...the crush remained.

She'd come into the store now and then and ask for a free song. I'd say, "No way, baby." like I was some big time hard ass and she'd beg and plead and gaze warmly into my eyes. Then I'd give in and she'd hug me and thank me and kiss my cheek. That was as far as it went. Ever. It was very bittersweet.

I had made myself a promise: I'd never make a big deal out of it again. I was determined to carry my crush like a grown up (or at least carry it as close as I could to being a grown up) and never let Milla know that in a small way she would always own a piece of my heart (at least I wouldn't tell her until she became eighteen). Sure it was a big fat shoulder-crushing bummer but I learned something important along the way.

Love is amazing. It can make you kill dragons and sing show tunes from rooftops but crushes are more private things that you carry deep in your heart. Love can move mountains and cause countries to go to war but only a crush can make a thirty two-year-old guy punch a lamp across a living room. They are the kind of thing you wear deep inside your soul because if you spill the beans you might get your heart broken. Or your face. Or maybe your ass will end up in jail. Or in the ground. Or all of the above. C'mon! Who needs that shit?

Love and crushes are both life lessons and both are wonderful. The downside is that you never know how wonderful until years later.

CUT TO:

Years later.

Sometimes I remember all of this.

Wanna talk about bittersweet?

Man, I'm the poster boy for bittersweet!

But enough about me...