Scientists (the mugs) have wasted a lot of time and precious pennies of now-scarce public money trying to figure out exactly what it is that makes one human person sexually attracted to another human person. I’m not really sure why they’re doing this. I’ve got a suspicion it might be for covert capitalist purposes, with the aim of fuelling the mass-production of chemical crap we’ll be convinced to buy with money via inane, expensive advertising campaigns. Sprays and gels and surgical procedures that will force us sexually desirable humans to engage in unwise reproductive trysts with ugly/boring/stinky ones by mimicking the symptoms of raw animal lust.
I’ve previously used the virtual space of this blog, and the chunk of your brain matter that’s taken up with reading it, to have a dig at science – so forgive me for childish repetition, but: ha ha science! Screw you! You haven’t worked it out yet!
To give them their dues, scientists have had some ideas – ideas which have also occurred to all people with a rudimentary conception of logic, eyes, an active libido and no lab or research dollar: we like people with attractive faces (because of evolution, obviously), and people who smell nice (evolution) and different to us (so we don’t shag our brothers, sisters, parents, or uncles – again, evolution). I shouldn’t mock though, scientists are very clever people who’ve even invented a word for the love-aromas they think we might excrete to bewitch potential lovers: pheromones. Although they’ve yet to come up with a similarly inventive terminology for why we like the good-looking, opting for the, frankly lazy, phrase ‘facial attractiveness’.
Whatever the reason I’m sure you don’t need scientists to tell you that one of the most delicious of life’s many delicious moments is when you unexpectedly encounter a fellow human person who makes your tummy do a flip-flop and your genital juices flow. Americans call this ‘crushin” (English people call it ‘fancying’, but that is not a street enough expression for these pages and tbh not quite as specific as the American version because we also use ‘fancy’ to express our desire for cake and tea. Sometimes, our uptight, prudish politeness does us no favours).
When you’re single, crushin’ is the ultimate result you can hope for when leaving your house to engage in social activity. Some days – strike that – most days the potential that you might end up crushin’ over some stranger in the pub is the only reason you agree to change out of your pyjamas, wash your hair and leave the warm comfort of your duvet and the No.1 Ladies Detective Agency series. Alright, mostly, it doesn’t happen and you end up, as per usual, a bit bored and pissed; crying over the fact that your ex is moving to China with his new girlfriend and the only thing you have to love is a pair of blue stilettos; one of which you lost when you had a drunken fight with your brother in the snow at Christmas. But, crushin’ is always a possibility. It might happen. And, when it does, that leads to exciting events – like getting an electric love-shock when your crushee touches you and the possibility of sex.
Crushin’, I’ve decided, is nature’s way of stopping us all from becoming total recluses. Why would you engage in sociality – which involves talking to people who might be boring, have bad breath or bogies hanging out their noses – if it mightn’t result in potential lust-sparkles? Even though I think evolution might be a little bit bullshit* (sorry Darwin), I will concur that social activity does appear to exist purely for the purpose of putting us in situations where we might consider procreating. Thus furthering the existence of the human race. This is why we’re willing to spend £6.50 on a glass of sauvignon blanc in a pub, even though we know we could get two bottles for the same price on special offer at the Co-op. No wonder it’s so hard to get married people out for a drink.
Being in a relationship doesn’t preclude you from crushin’, obvs. It just makes what is nature’s most sensual and spontaneous of gifts a bit of a pain in the arse. For example, when you start crushin’ over someone who is not your boyfriend and have to make a decision whether to sleep with them (and cause all the drama and upset that is par for the infidelity course in cultures that favour monogamy) or not to sleep with them (and deny yourself pleasure to which you feel bodily entitled). Or when you notice that your partner is crushin’ on someone else and a jealous rage causes you to want to smash her face in with a heavy glass ashtray.
It is always possible that you might end up in a relationship with someone you were once crushin’ on. But, as we know, it is hard to stay crushin’ when you’ve had to kick someone’s dirty socks over to their side of the room and/or inhale the poo vapours that have escaped from inside their bum when you go to clean your teeth before bed.
As ever, my summing up involves telling you that staying single is the way forward. Today though, I’m not being even mildly tongue-in-cheek. Crushin’ is actually better when you’re single and can do something about the lust-sparkles while remaining guilt-free (I’m not willing to engage too much with negative emotions here – but trust me when I tell you this: guilt ain’t good).
* No, I’m not a creationist, but I do have an opinion on this. One which I have no evidential justification for whatsoever. It’s probably better if I don’t bore you to death with it here. I’ll leave it for another post, so do watch this space if you give a flying fuck.