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This is a question Teenage Crushes - Part Two

Freddie Woo writes: I've still got weird feelings for a well-known female TV presenter from the 1980s. I'm now in my forties, work in the same building as her and she follows me on a number of social networking sites. And now, she knows about it.

Tell us about the teenage crushes that still make you go wobbly.

(, Thu 5 Nov 2009, 11:04)
Pages: Latest, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, ... 1

This question is now closed.

Not really a crush
because she had a faced like a well fucked horse, but I used to want to take my school science teacher's breasts out for a drink.
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 18:54, 5 replies)
Ooh ooh, just remembered another
Has no one mentioned her yet?
Fay Lucas from Grange Hill anyone?
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 17:13, 1 reply)
Sorry for the doubling up...

My other crush was in the Mortal Kombat movie, Bridgette Wilson, she was Sonya Blade. She was also in Billy Maddison and I Know What You Did Last Summer. She is also, mucho-lovely.
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 16:57, 2 replies)
Oh Boy!
We all remember the TV masterpiece that was Quantum Leap don't we? Sam Beckett, the spunky scientist with a penchant for womens clothes and flying WW2 aircraft would rock our world on a daily basis?

Like all school kids at the time I would ensure I was home by 6.30, so I could plonk down in front of the tube to get my fix. But I had other motives than revising for the schoolyard test that was sure to come in the morning. I had darker filthier designs. Because occasionally, when the news hadn't overrun, when they needed to pad the schedule a little, she would be there. You know who I'm talking about. Her. Her time was short. I have no idea who she was , but if you were lucky, the long intro sequence would begin, and like clockwork 'He' would give a twitch. 30 seconds in and I would be having serious issues hiding the 4 inches in my trousers. But its the final line she delivered in an almost needy voice that would get me the most - "and hoping each time that his next leap will be the leap home".

Here's a link so people understand



Who needs milk enema's to get off? *

*may in fact be me
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 16:54, 1 reply)
My girl
Have a pearoast from just over a year ago - this question is a rehash, so this is appropriate.


She had large brown eyes and long wavy hair worn in plaits tied with navy blue ribbons.

When she smiled the room lit up and when we all played kiss-chase she never ran from me.

We were both five when I proposed and from that day on for two years each morning we could be found sitting on the steps outside our classroom repeating the same words to each other –
“I’m going to marry you when I grow up”

When we were seven and the allure of an older woman who owned her own jumbo sized pencil-sharpener became too great I faltered.

My lovely brown-eyed fiancée was told that I was going out with Clare H now and I no longer loved her in her pencil-sharpenerless state.

She cried and I felt like a heel.

Even stories of Little Black Sambo who outwitted the tigers and ate pancakes for tea couldn’t cheer me up.

Each time I glanced around the classroom her large brown eyes would find me and silently plead with me but my hand was held fast in a sweaty embrace with Clare and our love was sealed by her placing her pencil-sharpener into my pencil case.

Young love is a fickle beast and soon my relationship with the sweaty-handed Clare was over and I was once again single and sharpener-free.

I was always one of the lads and my days were taken up with football and playing Superheroes.

All of the girls refused our pleas to be our Wonder Woman or Bat Girl.
The girls wanted to play house under the rhododendron bushes, collect the fallen blossom or play strange clapping games.
A few fast and loose ones would entice you into a rhododendron house, lie on the beaten earth and lift their skirts so you could see their knickers.
None of us lads were interested in their cotton undies with the days of the week printed upon them – these could not match our pants with ThunderCats emblazoned upon them.

One girl finally accepted our offer to be Wonderwoman, to eschew the draw of flowers, house and other girl games, one girl saw how good the Superhero game was - the girl with the large brown eyes and wavy hair; she would be Wonder Woman for me.

Soon we were nearing the end of our long days in Primary school. We had all been split up, girls no longer talking to or sitting with boys, separate games lessons, boys smelled and girls were bitchy.

One girl was always in trouble with the teachers.
One girl was to be punished for her constant chattering to other girls.
She was to be sat next to a boy as surely the conversations would cease.

And so it came to pass that my wavy haired, brown eyed girl sat next to me.

Each Monday morning would be spent in giggles as I re-enacted Saturday night’s ‘Jim’ll Fix It’ for her with the aid of my novelty cigar biro pen.

Each Monday afternoon would be spent in detention – each of us smiling gently at the other.

And then the end came – off we went in separate directions to different schools – she to an all-girls’ grammar and I to a mixed comp.

I had been at my new school for a few weeks when I saw Diana – she was fifteen, blonde and stunning.

I found out that she lived in my village and I began a determined effort of stalking her. I followed her each Friday evening when she went to the youth club. I played pool with my friends and Diana, lovely Diana disappeared behind the back of the youth club hut and smoked with the local bad lads.

Then quite out of the blue I received a telephone call.

It was from the girl with the large brown eyes and wavy hair.

“Hello Richard. I’mgoingtoadisconextFridayeveningwouldyouliketocomewithme?”



“I’ll have to ask my mum. I’ll ring you back.”

Friday nights were Diana’s.

Diana had big bouncy breasts and smoked cigarettes.

I phoned the girl with the large brown eyes and wavy hair; I told her I had to visit my Aunt on that Friday, but thanks anyway for the invitation.

She never called again.

Another year passed, I grew by six inches and my mates sent me into the Offie for cans of Stella.

I still went to the Youth Club with its twin attractions of Diana and the pool table.

Then one evening Diana invited me around the back for a fag.

She leaned forward and kissed me gently, her lips were damp and her breath was heavy with Silk Cut and cheap cider.

My mates stood and watched, each drawing deeply on their cigarettes and laughing about Diana’s friends in their short skirts and large thighs.

I slid my hand up her white blouse until I could feel the silken smoothness of her bra. I kissed her deeper, my virgin tongue slipping in and probing her warm wet mouth. My hand cupped her lacy clad breast and my engorged cock began to nudge against her thigh. Her tongue began to respond to mine by twisting and circling in a way that I thought was sexy in a HotPoint kind of way. I kneaded and pulled gently at her tit, feeling her hard little nipple dance in my inky fingers. Diana’s fingers were playing with the waistband of my jeans, sharp fingernails were scratching my stomach and I could bear it no longer. I took her hand and shoved it down onto my rock hard pork sword and as her cool fingertips made contact I spluffed into my boxers.

“Will you go out with me?” I groaned to Diana as my brain began its slow journey back up to my skull.

“Nah. You’re cute right. But I like a man who can go all night. Wanna fag?”

Fifteen years passed.

During that time I shagged my way through Uni and across the world.

Diana I found out now had four kids and a loyalty card for IceLand.

That summer I received an invitation to a wedding of an old mate I’d studied with in Uni – a bit of a bastard if I’m being truthful, but it was the opportunity to get drunk at his expense, catch up with old mates and maybe even get laid.

I expect you can guess who the bride was…when I saw the invitation I did a double take – she has a very unusual name the girl with big brown eyes and wavy hair.

I went to the wedding and watched my first love walk up the aisle.

I watched her marry a man whom I know is a bastard.

I watched her marry a man whom I know was unfaithful to her during his stag night – I know because I was there right along side him as we both screwed working girls for £60 each.

After the ceremony I finally got chatting to her, my wavy haired, brown eyed girl.

I reminded her of her promise to marry me when she grew up. She laughed and just as when she’d been a child, her laughter and smiles lit up the room.

And finally I had the courage to say to her what I should have said long ago,

“Will you go out with me?”

She laughed again and told me that if ever things went wrong with her marriage I’d be the first one she’d contact.

Six months later she called me.
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 16:51, 15 replies)
The secret world of Alex Mack
Back in 1994 on Nickelodeon, both Alex & her sister mmmmmm.
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 16:50, 4 replies)
Ralph you lucky cnut...
POP! Yup, this is my first post...

Elizabeth Shue in the Karate Kid movie. I was about 8 or 9 and was 100% sure that if I became a black belt she would love me.

It didn't work....fucksocks
edit: OK, so I wasn't a teenager, am 27 now and still have a thing for her so get lost....
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 16:44, 3 replies)
Black Snake Moan. Christina Ricci.
-pass the tissues.
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 16:39, 4 replies)
Having only just escaped from teenagerhood this isn't exactly a trip down memory lane...
...but that my tastes were and are fairly odd this question's worth answering.
Alanis Morisette - a crush that apparently only me and Kevin Smith were privy to.I still have a dusty 8- (or is it 16?) track of Jagged Little Pill which never fails to bring back fond memories.The notion that God might look like her was almost enough to convert me to religion.
Ally Sheedy - except that bit with the dandruff.
Kim and,latterly,Kelly Deal from the Pixies and The Breeders.Way back when,they were shit hot.And twins.And they had a basic knowledge of guitar playing.Oh kalloo kallay.Is it strange that i found one of them attractive even when they were smoking through a balaclava in the video for "Saints"?
Fiona Bruce - probably the hottest older-woman on british telly save for The Holy Nigella.The only reason I watched the news.
Marge Simpson - obviously.
And latterly i found Eve from Wall-E wierdly attractive...despite the robot element.I think it's the coy voice but watching robots cavort in space took on new layers of meaning for me.
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 16:18, 6 replies)
And Strong Currents in the Southern Parts
Lucy Verasamy from Sky News Weather.


That tight top and tight skirt, tits dying to be freed.

(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 15:28, 8 replies)
It's been precisely two years since I was a teenager.
When I grow up I want to be a hack, which I suspect contributes to some inappropriate brain-crushes. It is just me, isn't it, who thinks Peter Wilby looks like an older Spike-from-Buffy?
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 15:24, Reply)
When a crush goes too far
Mary O'Connor was a 40-year-old woman that lived alone across the road from me. In my early teenage years I used to fantasise about her all the time; what I’d like to do with her, and her to me. Most of these fantasises would end in an almighty wank, but I was young and just doing what came naturally I suppose. I would think about her constantly. During school classes, I would daydream about her, and at night I would peer through my curtains across to her house, trying to get a glimpse of her. She’d displaced my Geography teacher, Mrs. West, as the number 1 lady in my life, although at first, she didn’t know this. I’m not sure why my crush was so strong on a woman I’d barely spoken to. Perhaps it was because I was young, or it could have been the fact that she was utterly stunning. She was small in stature; a nice little body with perfectly formed breasts, I estimated about a B cup. I often wondered what her nipples looked like, and longed for the day when I could catch her getting undressed. She was also a business woman, and it was something about her dressed in a suit that got my young juices flowing. Her crisp white blouse was often tight against her chest, and on a few occasions I could make out the detail on her bra. It made getting up for school worthwhile, as I got to see Mary leaving for work. ‘If only she knew how I felt’, I often thought, wishing that I had the bravery to approach her and tell her how amazing I thought she was. However, as time went by, I started to take my crush a bit too far.

I started to stalk Mary and became obsessed with the same things as she was. One morning, as she was collecting her milk from the front doorstep I threw my shoe onto her front garden whilst her back was turned. As I went to retrieve it, she turned and looked at me. I swear she smiled.

“My brother threw my shoe onto your garden. Sorry”, I lied, and felt my cheeks go red in the process. It was a conversation starter though (albeit a strange one) and that morning I learnt what her favourite food, singers and hobbies were, and stated that mine were the same. She seem impressed. This went on for several weeks. I’d go out and say hello to her as she collected her milk and make small talk about things that I knew she liked, having researched them further on the internet.

After a few weeks, simply talking to Mary each morning was not enough. I found her phone number in the phone book and started to ring her. If she didn't answer, I’d keep ringing her back until she did, leaving a message on the answer machine every time. I started off with things such as, "Hi it’s me, just seen something that reminds me of you, ring me back"; but I got progressively worse, becoming tetchy and angry with each message I left. After a couple of days with no response I was leaving messages such as "Do you hate me?? What have I done wrong, Arrrghghhhh!!" complete with an almighty, deafening scream. Yet again, I had no response, but still I chanced my luck - skiving off school one day when I knew Mary hadn’t gone to work. I rang her again and she eventually answered. She asked if I was ok, and that I should speak to my parents, but I acted like nothing was wrong, and said that maybe she was the strange one for believing I was angry.

It soon progressed. I started to follow Mary and make random appearances at places she was at. I followed her to the local supermarkets and accidentally bumped into her, "Fancy seeing you here!”, I exclaimed, trying to sound surprised. Mary seemed a bit scared by this. I kept this up for another two or three weeks, and began to get a bit more aggressive in my approach to stalking Mary. I already knew where she worked, but I started trying to find out about the people she worked with. Then, when in conversation with her one morning when she didn’t collect her milk quick enough without having to make conversation with me, I made snide comments about some of her colleagues that seemed to freak her out. "You know Bill in your office? I’d love to see a lorry reverse over him, and his rotting corpse be scavenged by crows. Sorry, did I say that out loud?" I said. Mary looked at me, then quickly went inside, slamming the door behind her. A month later, despite my best efforts, she moved out.
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 14:30, 8 replies)
Sean that turned out to be Shaun
Well, I grew up in South Africa and so I cant tell you about what form I was in but I can put it in grades.
My very first crush was a guy called Martin Briggs, but he fancied my best friend Lisa but she fancied his cousin Dunkin who turned out to be gay.
But, thats not who I want to tell you about, I would like to tell you about 'Sean Morris', I later found out his name was spelled 'Shaun' and I was heart broken and devastated because I had carved the wrong fekken name into all those desks for all those years.
It all started in my first year in high school (Grade 7), I was a straggly skinny little blonde haired chicky that had a serious complex about her nose. I was certainly not a popular girl and most would say I was a dork because I hung out with possibly the ugliest chicks at school. The day I saw him was sunny and bright and we had just been to Mr Jones' Class and Mr Jones was someone who loved himself dearly, he would tuck a red carnation into his jacket pocket everyday... but I digress. So on this afternoon after class with Mr Jones, my friend and I were going upstairs to our next class and I started to impersonate Mr Jones, his suave accent, his pussy voice etc. As I was doing this I noticed a guy looking at me, he was amused by me and oh my god, it was love at first sight, that was me, totally infatuated for the very first time.
Little did I know at the time, he wasn't interested in me and didnt really fancy me, he just thought I was funny for one fleeting moment and he went on with his cool dude life.
We would hang out everywhere he hung out and slowly but surely all my friends grew a crush on Shaun but as the years went by and they all got boyfriends and I didnt, finally the time came for him to leave school. I have never been so devastated.
Three years later, I was at a club called Morgans Cat and the straggly blonde had blossomed and turned into something of reasonable beauty (this is me by the way, not to be vain or anything but fuck, after years of being a hound I reckon I deserved the transformation). So anyhoo, at the club, I saw Shaun, he fancied the pants off me and when I asked him if he remembered me from school and how I had always hung out next to his group, he looked at me and said, no, he didnt recognise me but could he buy me a drink? Well, I let him buy me that drink and enjoyed telling him how I had been totally in love with him at school. By the end of the night though I had already received much attention from other guys and he had gotten the message that my school crush for him was just that and no more...

Off he went, short little shit Shaun. Oh how I was blinded by his curly locks and blue eyes....

Sorry for length!!!
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 14:20, Reply)
Oh my GOD I just remembered one...
Having read some more from below with adverts, just occurred to me I had the strangest crush on the woman from the Brita Water Filter adverts, the one where she made the most translucent cup of tea you've ever seen!

She was very dominant in that household, had a wicked look in her eye, as if to say "this is my cup of tea and if you dared drink it you won't get any sex for a week".

Maybe just me though, wish I could find a pic!
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 14:00, 6 replies)
John Barrowman and James Masters.
Been crushing on Barrowman his Live&Kicking days. Was deeply uncool to fancy him back then, but I didn't care.

Never watched Buffy much, but did develop a small thing for James Masters.

So I was rather happy when www.youtube.com/watch?v=hj7Q2M5hB5A was on. My inner 14 year old exploded.
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 13:25, 1 reply)
I was still a teenager in 1993 (well for some of it anyway).
Back in the early 90s, the fashion was that shorts for sporty things were really short. So, short shorts combined with hot girls made for a very pleased SLVA when the Sure Sensive advert aired in 1993. I can't find it on its own, but here it is in this compilation. It starts at 0:35


Edit: I longed for that ad to be shown and was sad when it wasn't shown in a break. All my mates were lusting after women; "Corr, look at the tits on her. I wouldn't mind hanging out of her" and other tasteless comments. But here was me being all sensitive and a right soppy sod.

Mind you, I could afford to be. I was getting it at least twice a day from Mrs SLVA whilst my mates were single for longer than is healthy. Bwahahaha
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 12:43, 1 reply)
Jennifer Connelly.
...well, okay, so it was me as an adult having a crush on her when she was still a teenager and into her twenties, but still...
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 12:41, 4 replies)
Anneka Rice & Lightning
(apologies if someone has already mentioned her but I couldnt be arsed to check)
I was besotted with Anneka Rice - skintight catsuit, gratuitous ass shots and she got shit done. awesome.

also, lightning off of gladiators. much better than the more popular jet IMO.
She actually moved to my town a few years ago and her kid has recently started at my mates kids school. I gave serious thought to moving my kid to the same school just so I could meet her. Probably best I dont though as I honestly dont think I could resist slapping her on the arse and saying awooga.
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 12:22, 7 replies)
In another life I could’ve been sweet and nice and, dare I say it, dashing. Still be an ugly cunt though…

I blame it on the Impulse commercials circa mid 80’s. The ones where some tart walks through a shopping mall wearing a trouser suit with the kind of shoulder pads you’d normally see on an American football field. When suddenly some geezer gets a whiff of her pits and rushes off to buy her… flowers. Yep, fucking flowers. I’ve only just recently started the whole Interflora thing again after I discovered buying my girlfriend flowers is an absolute dead cert guarantee of getting to cum on her face later. And if I happen to buy her chocolates too, well, let’s just say I’d be wiping the shit off my cock on the curtains for a month.

But back when I was an insufferable little pre-teen prick, I actually believed everything I saw on TV was true. As far as I was concerned the A Team and Airwolf were documentaries and France was, in point of fact, populated in the olden musketeer days by a load of dogs who could walk on their hind legs and talk and chose to keep particularly annoying mice as their comedy sidekicks.

So, after watching several of these Impulse ads I decided the best way to get Amy Something-or-Other to be my bird was to get her some flowers. And give them to her. In school. In my form room. Just before the register was being taken. Now, Amy was dead posh. She even paid for her own school lunches, that’s how fucking posh she was. So when I did a little detour that morning on my walk to school to the graveyard of St Thomas and All Saints, I made sure I only chose the freshest, most loveliest flowers from the tops of the graves. After I’d harvested a shedload, I rammed them in my satchel and went to school. Nervous. Excited. I was already imagining how Amy would melt when I gave her the foliage. She would be mine! Oh, yes – she would be mine!

A few minutes later, in class, everyone’s settling down. I get up from my desk at the rear of the class, whip out the assorted carnations, orchids, and manky roses, and I make my way down the isle towards Amy and her group of mates (she sat near the front, she was a bit of a swot). The class went deadly quiet. Everyone was staring as if I’d just shat in my hands and was walking round cupping it for everyone to get a nice, deep lungful. Amy clocked me, her face contorted. She knew I fancied her. And now I think she saw what was coming. Jesus… The look of complete and utter hatred and contempt on her face… She looked right through me, turned sharply and started a conversation with her mates. Completely blanking me.

So, there I was – flowers in hand, being stared at by the assembled members of 4B. I had to think fast. I kept on walking. Just kept on going. I gave the flowers to my form tutor who just sat there dumbly, wondering what the fuck was going on. “For you,” I said. “For all the great work… errr…. thanks….” Then I made the awkward, long, painful trudge back to my seat.

Thinking back though I don’t really know who was more embarrassed. Me or my form tutor, Mr Butler (great big bush moustache on that man and biceps like well-oiled tree trunks, if I recall correctly)…
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 11:56, 3 replies)
not me
but pretty much every guy my age (ummm, let's say 27-33 as i am neither of those!) seems to have had or to have a thing for philippa forester.

to me, she looks like someone's mum. why?

or is that the attraction?

also, all my male friends seemed to lust after the cadbury's caramel bunny. wtf? it's a cartoon AND it's a cartoon wabbit. surely that's the very definition of the phrase "neeeeeeeeeeever gonna happen."
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 11:44, 17 replies)
Miss Pegram.
In my first post this week, I mentioned something about a future post regarding teachers. Well- here it is. As a yoof, there was always something alluring about teachers. The more-often-than-not attire consisting of skirts, tights and heels, the knowledge, and of course, the forbidden-ness of the age difference. Because of that, I think, in my life, I have fallen for about 30 teachers, maybe more if we're counting substitute teachers. Anyway, in year 10, there was this goddess-like being who was introduced to the class as, simply, "Miss P".

Sadly, she was a Geography teacher. I didn't take that lesson, so I rarely, if ever, seen her. However, every day after registration, she would come into my form's classroom to get some supplies for her lessons. After longing for her for a few months, the best possible thing could have happened- my form tutor was leaving, and Miss P was taking his place. Now, I was a bit sad with it, since my form teacher was awesome, but when he was getting replaced by this woman made of the feeling you get when you wake up on Christmas morning, I suddenly cared a lot less about him leaving.

Soon enough, he left, and the woman now-known as Miss Pegram was our form teacher. And she would sit and talk to the whole class for a whole 15 minutes every morning and early afternoon. Every single day. It was the best. And even better? I got to take her register back every day. I understood that doing this twice a day for the last two years at school was less-than-subtle, but I didn't care. She once said "you're a lifesaver", and "you're the best". She also offered me a secret reward for doing it on the last day of school. I never did get it, but the things she said made it worth it. Although...there's not a day that goes by where I don't think of what that reward was going to be.

(Probably just something to say to keep me going, but don't spoil my fantasy.)
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 11:21, Reply)
Just reading about this one makes me go all wobbly... with pictures too!! :D

(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 11:12, Reply)
Apologies for bringing my self-indulgent musings all up in yo' faces, but I've been pondering this very issue lately.

My teenage crush was a long-runner. Seven years it was that I was hopelessly, stomach-fizzingly-cliched, writing-reams-of-shit-poetry and mooning about the place in love with a boy called Alexander. He was one of my best friends at school. I made him laugh. We used to write notes to each other in class, spend hours talking on the phone to the despair and rage of our bill-crippled parents, have adventures together, all that malarky. He confided in me all his deepest angsty woes - including, naturally, how much he fancied Beth/Naomi/Helen/Rachel - whoever it was that week. And I, as confidant and honourary boy-in-girls' clothing, did my best to advise and sympathise whilst internally suffering something equivalent to gout of the heart. And all the while I hoped and prayed that - Dawson's Creek-stylee - he would one day turn to look at me and see - gasp! - not the scrawny and overexcitable sidekick with the bad dye job but the Girl Of His Dreams, and everything would be awesome and wonderful, and so on yadder etc.

It didn't work out, obviously. Matters came to a head in sixth form when, having had it up to here with years of not-very-effective subterfuge, I told him I loved him. I remember the scene in LCD-clarity. I was sat in a muddy field wearing a sequinned tutu and torn fairy wings. He was dressed as Henry VIII. It was someone's shit fancy dress party, and he'd just been turned down by the latest object of his romantic dreams. He just took my hand and said 'I know.' That was it, really. We couldn't ever be close after that, once it was all out in the open. We went our separate ways to uni - I had an amazing time, him not so great. We're still sort of in touch now, and I think of him fondly. It always amazes me now when I speak how alike we still are, how after six years' not seeing one another we can still finish each other's sentences, and all that crap.

This isn't really about him, though. What worries me is that what happened over those formative years - that constant, unwavering affection for someone who just wasn't interested - has moulded me in a fashion that is unlikely to be conducive to a future joys. Put simply, I don't think I know how to do this shit. I'm now officially in my late twenties, and have never had what I'd consider a proper adult relationship. I've had a couple of six-month stints with chaps who were perfectly nice, but who I never really felt much for, and didn't regret the break-up. And I've had my heart savagely broken twice by others who I wasn't with for nearly as long, but the mere fact of them not being quite as keen on me - and not particularly nice - has unfortunately been enough to set me swooning. It seems to take me a helluva long time ( as in years) to get over these ones. Not in a stalkering or melodramatic weeping or obvious way; in fact you'd hardly know it. I had quite a lot of practice in keeping schtum.

So, to come to the point - what if my teenage crush has hard-wired my brain in such a way as to make it well-nigh impossible for me to adore anyone who isn't more-or-less romantically indifferent to me? Where the heck does that point? Cos frankly, I'd rather bounce about merrily on my own than be with someone who I didn't utterly adore, having seen the finest young ladies of my generation fall one-by-one into the cosy stagnant waters of long-term relationships and arguments about bed linen and cutlery sets.

This has all got a bit Dear Diary now, so I'll stop. Ooh, and I really fancied Ioan Gruffudd from that Hornblower series. He could navigate through my waters anytime.
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 11:04, 11 replies)
Is it just me
Or did Rosie from Rosie and Jim give you *strange* feelings downstairs you didn't tell your parents about because you were old enough to know it's wrong
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 10:16, 2 replies)
Oswestry - the original crap town.
Apart from having the world's worst one-way system and being the muster-point for most chavvages in shropshire, Oswestry has only one internet connection.

As a result, we have to request printouts of the websites we want to read, and then submit the things we want to post to Darren (it's his 28K modem and connection) and he types them up when he has time.

The delays can be shocking.
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 10:11, 4 replies)
Do toddler crushes count?
When I was 4 or 5 I had a bit of a thing for Jemima off playschool. She was always flipping out doing crazy dances, she looked like she'd be up for it. Hamble was like a disapproving older sister, never doing much but looking like she was storing everything in her plastic head, ready for bitter accusations and recriminations in a few years time.

Big Ted and Little Ted were a couple of Fag Hags - good fun but basically a couple of bitches. And Humpty was just a fat retarded uncle with wandering hands.

Then I got a bit older and moved on to flesh and blood Floella Benjamin, but that was clearly never going to happen.
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 10:08, 1 reply)
ahh... timing.
Yes, I too had teenage crushes on inappropriately aged musicians and post hoc analysis suggests long blonde hair was a key factor.
Now that I think about it, the two main teenage crushes that I actually knew also had long blonde hair.

The first was a friend at that early teenage stage when you've just realised that boys might not actually have cooties and might instead be rather cute. This crush never went anywhere because we moved in and out of each other's friend zones at times that never matched.

The second was also a friend who I didn't realise was interested until after I'd come running to him to tell him how wonderful my new boyfriend was... oops :/ What made it even worse was that the wonderful new boyfriend turned out to be an arsehole control freak (with short brown hair, surely there's something in this?) and the friend warned me and I didn't believe him :(

The running theme with my crushes (there's more, I just don't want to bore you too much) is, ignoring the hair, that I am completely unable to notice when someone is interested until it's too late.

So there's two conclusions I can draw here; the moral of the story is either: 1. I should go with my instincts and only date men with long blonde hair, or 2. I need an independent review board to point out when someone's interested and vet them for me.

I think the first one is easier to work out, pity it's not the 90's anymore :/
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 5:25, 5 replies)
has anyone mentioned
Lex (Ariana Richards) from Jurassic Park?
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 2:52, 2 replies)
Not me, my daughter.
I had a really odd conversation with my sixteen year old daughter the other day.

She was telling me about a conversation with a friend of hers, where they were discussing their crushes. My daughter admitted to having a thing for Dr. Chase on "Criminal Minds", the scrawny ubersmart geek kid. Her friend replied that she intends to marry Ben Affleck.

I considered this for a moment. "She does realize that Ben Affleck is already married, right?"

"Yeah. It's selective thinking, Dad. It's like how I think that Brad Pitt is hot, but I don't think about the fact that he's your age."




oh FUCK I didn't need my mind to go there.
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 1:00, 2 replies)
Physics and the Law of Attraction
Physics class was boring, to a 15 yr old girl of course.
Till one day instead of being confronted with the usual old bearded, leather elbow patched teacher, there was Mr H.
Younger Mr H, with his swarthy romany looks, leather jacket and twinkling eyes.
Suddenly physics was a class to look forward to, if only to get a smile and sometimes a cheeky wink from teacher.
I was smitten, and I was also totally virginally naive.
Being asked to stay behind after class was enough to make me feel all funny in a girly previously unknown squiggly way and cause giggling and elbow nudging amongst my friends.
I didnt understand innuendo back then so a lot of the things he said just went right over my head.
But anyway I had a crush and was thrilled me seemed to take notice of me.
Now nothing untoward ever happened apart from him once putting an arm across my shoulders and leaning in so close I could feel his breath on my neck.
Fast forward to leaving school and feeling gutted I wouldnt see him again.
Then a year later going to a party and he was there.
I turned to jelly when he asked me to dance.
There i was in the arms of my schoolgirl crush, my knight in shining armour.

Who then showed himself to be a sad pathetic fecking sleazebag!
Being pawed by a slavering idiot who whined he hadnt had sex for ages cured me of that crush.
Spent the rest of the night avoiding him in total horror.
Saw some interesting ( if salacious) posts about him on Friends Reunited over the last few years.
They say 'Be careful what you wish for'
The best crush is one left unfulfilled ;)
(, Tue 10 Nov 2009, 0:56, 6 replies)

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