Guy Watching: Instacrushes

It's all about that moment. Love at first sight. No, make that lust. No, call it a crush. Because there's always just one little thing that does it, that gives you that sweet, innocent moment of desire. Or one big thing. Bulge. Exposed skin. Muscles. That right amount and placement of hair on head or leg or arm. All designed just for you in that moment.

Saying hello is idiotic. It would ruin your crush. It'd be like hearing a silent film star talk. It would spoil the drama, break the illusion.

Because, and I've learned this the hard way, projecting who you want someone to be on top of them for real is not a good life strategy. Better that someone just be himself and you experience that versus having selective vision. But with a crush you never meet, there's no negative to projecting all you want.

The guy becomes your personal romance novel cover. And if you see him on the street, sometimes there may even be wind blowing his hair, just like one of those covers. But if it turns out he's actually the Fabio, run away! Should you ever marry, he'll destroy your pooled finances with his chest oil budget. Plus all the off-white tunics he trashes by a combination of the natural flexing of his chest and the unnatural oiling of his chest. Have phone sex with Fabio, but in-person, run from Fabio. Run hard.

Everyone else, don't run, just stare. File their image away and dream of who they are and who you are when with them. That's the one thing that can be real. Who you are. And one thing you are for sure, even if the crushers in question don't approach you, is someone else's crush. Someone crushed out on you today. Someone did. I swear.

[Photos via Tube Crush]