The first crush was controversial,
I was madly in love with a turtle,
I dreamed of steamy nights tucked under his green muscly arm,
Down in a damp and dark sewer, eating pizza in the calm,
I spent all of school chatting about him with my mate Hannah,
Longing for this reptilian face, shiny muscles and red bandanna,
I got to an age where the turtle obsession became absurd,
It got less Ninja Kick and more TAKE THAT so I followed the herd,
Onto Mark Owen – I was eleven and secretly thought he was too clean cut,
But I filled my room with stickers of him and said things like ‘I love his butt’
And when they split up, we all wept and cried and some teenagers even took their own life,
I saw Owen at a party years later – we shared a chocolate bar and discussed his wife.
He’s in musicals now – but I promise he used to be cool,
And filled the gap before I first watched Legends of the Fall,
I was thirteen and it was on to Brad Pitt – he was the biggest babe I’d ever seen,
He was blond, blue-eyed and pretty but then also so dark, rugged and mean.
The voicemail on my Motorola became ‘If you’re not Brad, don’t speak, just leave me be’
This crush was less controversial than the turtle – he’s still fit as a 54 year old divorcee,
Another Owen – Michael with golden foot – kicked his way in next,
I got a ninety min video of him shooting and closely studied his pecs,
Then Eagle-Eye Cherry for a brief stint, I went to his gig and asked him to sign my thigh,
But instead of ‘Save Tonight’, he pulled out a pen and wrote ‘fuck off’ – I wanted to die.
So Solid’s Harvey came next, ‘When I double my dough, 21 seconds Harvey’s going to flow’
I saw him, chased him down the street screaming I love you, then it seemed Harvey had to go,
Far, far away.
Then onto another crush who was a lot less clean,
Pete Doherty.
His eyes the most beautiful things I’d ever seen,
They were glimmering brown pits of despair,
And his head full of straggly unwashed hair.
I wanted to help him, to take away his pain,
Obstruct the needles as they went into his vein,
I longed to be the person who could save him,
If only I could be the one who could bathe him,
To lovingly sponge him down, with him singing ‘What you gonna do Gracie’
And I’d crease with adoration and say ‘Let’s wash first and then… a baby?’
I went to every gig and surfed through the crowd,
Shouting I LOVE YOU PETE really loud,
I lost my shoes in the surf and found myself dancing at the back with bare feet,
I felt a trickle down my leg – must’ve put a hose in, I thought, to deal with the heat…
I turned to see a giant man having a piss on my leg – ‘excuse me what are you doing?’
‘Sorry love it’s my favourite song. The toilets are packed and I just didn’t fancy queing’
ENOUGH of these crushes ENOUGH I thought,
It really can’t get much worse than this,
I’m a toilet where rank men go to piss,
So it’s different now – I focus on loving myself,
After all I’ve awakened – I’ve come to see,
That my body is a temple – not a lavatory,
I do yoga and meditate, and eat Quinoa and wheatgrass,
I work on me. I’ve forgotten all about my crushy past.
I’m in vegan cafes all the time,
and avoid the sugars of wine,
But if you happen to see a girl that looks just like me
Hanging around outside Ben Whishaw’s home,
Pissed and shouting ‘piss on me’
Please stay calm
do not be alarmed,
there’s nothing to see,
It’s a slip from crush sobriety.
