My name is Morgan and I have a crush on CBC radio host Jian Ghomeshi. Now I realize that the obvious crush when it comes to CBC geeks of my age demographic is probably The Strombo and that declaring my crush on Jian probably lands me in the company of a bunch of Moxy Früvous fans and grey-hairs who dig Canada Reads. I, however am simply not a George kinda girl and prefer the radio to the TeeVee anyhow.
Having a Crush on a radio personality is really the easiest kind of crush to have. You get to hear their voice everyday in a comfortable and intimate setting (in my case, my kitchen) and you never have to worry about how you look or what they might think of you… because they don’t know you! You never have to talk to them and you can ALWAYS pretend that they are talking only to you. It’s the kind of crush that I generally file under the “fake crush” heading since the usual emotional turmoil that accompanies a real crush doesn’t come into play. The trouble with having a crush on a minor Canadian celebrity is that they are so darn accessible and this can really lead to trouble…and trouble, dear readers is where I am about to take you.
I went to a religious high school…and not only that, I was also raised religious. Being the extremist that I am I have gone back and forth between having my religious blinders firmly fixed and then taking them right off. When I take them off, I often feel the pain of the alienation I have forced on myself during my more pious phases. I didn’t kiss anyone till I was 23 because that would have made me a “slut” which would have been my choice word for girls that had any interest in boys.
Because of this, I was always very good at saying no to dates without hesitation. This is a note that I wrote to a boy who almost fooled me into going on a date with him in college. But being fresh out of my religious haven of high school I wasn’t going to be swayed.
I just read this for the first time in nine years and I swear I felt a pain in me that brought a tear to each of my eyes. The year that I graduated from high school the expression I heard the most (I would even go so far as to call it the school’s catch phrase) was, “This is the Real World,” a world where the only thing boys and girls were allowed to be was friends.
We were told that we were going to be leaving “The Real World” when we graduated and that we had to try to bring it with us. I guess I did a really great job of “bringin’ it.”
Below is the boy’s tricky response to me. I never paged him.