Everybody has one. That one person who makes your heart beat a little faster, your day a little better. That one person you definitely notice if they're within a two-mile radius of you. That one person who ... doesn't even know you exist. Your little crush whom you love to love but don't have any serious intention of meeting.
Mine is "Cappuccino Boy."
During my first year I spied Cappuccino Boy at a coffee shop on the Corner and instantly fell in love.
Something about the way he fastened cardboard to his cup so that he wouldn't burn himself appealed to me.
He was definitely attractive, but I could tell right away there was more to him than merely his pretty face.
Over the course of the next few years, every time I saw my lovely Cappuccino Boy, I would add to my arsenal of knowledge.
Not only was he good looking, but he was intelligent (evidenced by the fact that he was often spotted in a coffee shop, surrounded by books), fun-loving (he frequently appeared on the Lawn playing Frisbee with his friends), and sensitive (he was once seen petting a little dog in front of the Chapel).
In short, the boy was perfect.
One day I was sitting in the dining hall with some friends when I caught a glimpse of Cappuccino Boy.
"He is so awesome," I sighed as he walked by.
"Who is he?" my friend Matt asked.
"Cappuccino Boy," my two girl friends and I said in unison.
"Does he have an actual name?" Matt asked.
"I'm sure he does," I told him, "I just don't happen to know it. All I know is that he drinks a lot of coffee, writes a lot of papers, likes dogs, and plays Frisbee."
"That's a lot to know about a person," Matt observed.
"You think that's a lot to know about a stranger?" my friend Kelly asked. "See that guy over there at the salad bar? The one with the dark hair and the blue shirt? That's the 'Dark-Haired Wonder.' He's an engineer who lives in Lambeth, plays intramural ultimate Frisbee, studies in Clemons and hangs out with a guy who's a cheerleader."
"You ladies are stalkers," Matt informed us cheerily.
Kelly frowned, "I take total offense to that. We are not stalkers. Everything we know about these guys we found out accidentally, and the other stuff we just kind of inferred. It's not like we follow them around and make hang-up calls at night. We just notice them when they're around."
"So, it's like me with that hot girl from the gym who always uses the same stair-stepper overlooking the pool and reads a magazine, except you guys name your people," Matt said.
"Exactly," we all told him.
Having a crush on a total stranger is a far cry from stalking. It's simply a harmless form of entertainment. It's fun to have someone to smile about without the pressure of having to pursue any kind of actual relationship. It's exciting to have a sighting of the one you're infatuated with. There's something really appealing about having a totally one-sided interest in another person that is purely for your own amusement.
It's not like anyone seriously believes that one day their crush will fall madly in love with them or anything. Creating a persona for an unsuspecting and attractive stranger is merely an entertaining diversion, a way to hold onto some bizarre and unrealistic ideal while still maintaining and pursuing actual relationships.
On the first day of classes this semester, I was sitting in a lecture hall when a male voice asked, "Is this seat taken?"
I looked up to see Cappuccino Boy standing in the aisle.
"No," I managed to say, blushing at being in such close proximity to my crush. I barely could concentrate on that first lecture.
A week later I was ecstatic when I landed in the same discussion section with him. I almost died when we got assigned to do a group project together.
For the next several days I spent a bit of time with my object of desire. His name, it turns out, was Brian, and he did drink a lot of coffee and liked animals and Frisbee. He also lived in total filth, told offensive jokes, had a problem meeting deadlines and insisted on calling me "Katie."
The other day I was back in the dining hall having lunch with Matt, when he suddenly stopped mid-sentence and flashed me a smile.
"Don't look now, but here comes Cappuccino Boy," he said.
"Oh, you mean Brian," I said as the fellow in question strolled by.
"Is that his name?" Matt asked. "So, you finally met your amore. Is he everything you'd hoped he would be? Is he brilliant and sensitive and completely wonderful?" Matt clearly was enjoying himself.
"Well," I told him wryly, "He's no Cappuccino Boy"
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