Crush

I think my neighbor’s son has a crush on me.

This is a bizarre notion to contemplate. I am married, after all, and happily so at that. After two children, three years of motherhood, five years of marriage, and a couple years dating my husband, I have been out of the game for quite some time. It’s been forever since a guy has looked at me with more than a politely sympathetic Whoa, she’s gonna have her hands full in a few months, or- later – Whoa, she’s really got her hands full.

Not that I mind being out of the scene. I really do love my husband, and can’t imagine being with anyone else, even if it were just dinner and a movie. I honestly don’t want anyone else. I especially don’t want my neighbor’s son, who is nice enough but totally and completely not-my-type. Besides, he’s just a little bit creepy.

The possibility that someone is interested in me, though, is intriguing. I forgot what it feels like to be the purported recipient of someone’s attention. It’s got me thinking about how I’ve kind of lost myself, and not just sexually, in this whirling dervish of motherhood and marriage. I never did spend a lot of time preening, but now, I’m happy to have had a shower less than 36 hours ago. Beauty routine has been replaced with necessary hygiene. Fashion – never my strong suit – has been pushed aside by “Kind of fits, smells clean, and is largely stain-free.” My ego has been so ignored it’s a wonder she hasn’t just packed up and left.

But she’s still there. I have to admit that, while I am completely uninterested in any extra-curricular activities outside of my marriage (particularly with said neighbor’s son), it is secretly thrilling to consider that someone finds me attractive. Between the physical changes of child bearing and the aging process, I haven’t really felt particularly attractive in quite a while. It’s been forever since I felt that little rush, a combination of pride and pleasure, that a girl gets when someone gives her an approving glance.

Even if it is a creepy leer.

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