I’ve Got an Unrequited Crush On a Girl I Don’t Even Know

Photo by Quinn Dombrowski

Sorry, diary, but I really don’t know what actually happened this week at school.

Not because I cut class; I’m so not daring enough for that. Actually, it’s because I’m kind of, maybe, a little bit in love. With a girl. Who’s also straight. Oh, ouch.

Her name’s Topaz, thanks for asking, and evidently her parents had the right idea naming her after a precious jewel, because she is undoubtedly the sparkling centrepiece of sixth-form’s tarnished crown. Topaz is also in the year below – kewt! In true teenage style, I suspect my infatuation is almost entirely driven by extended narcissism; she reminds me of me, you guys: the lack of social niceties, the straggly, unbrushed tresses, unsung beauty beyond compare, etc, etc.

How do I get her to notice me? She probably doesn’t even know I’m into her – I need to start being more predatory in my behaviour. Like, sprawling across her desk fellating a biro, or something, except less phallic and more vaginal. Oh, I don’t know, I suck at seducing people. In fact, I’d even appreciate some tips from hormone-mad Rebecca “Shagwell” at this point. However repellent I find the idea of being Knadwell’s sexual apprentice, it would totally be worth it to win Topaz’s heart. Hmmm, the heart is a wildfire and I’m just a busted, old water gun.

Still, I threw some gum at her yesterday and all she threw back was an awkward eye-roll and a half smile. Ugh, what am I doing wrong? Charlie from my history class reckons that smouldering at her makes me look like a sociopath (it’s true, Brett does smoulder an awful lot) and that leaving apple cores on her desk isn’t exactly endearing. Plus, he would know, because he’s totally gay, even if he hasn’t worked it out for himself yet. Last week he watched 500 Days of Summer six times in a row, and trust me, it wasn’t for Zooey.

As if dealing with a doomed, one-way relationship isn’t soul-crushing enough, my friends are being totally unsupportive. “Babe,” laughs Penelope, “I’m sorry, but she is not going to fall head-over-high-tops for you in this dump. Plus – um – since when have you even been into girls? Doing that shit for attention is literally sooo 2010.”

I’m trying so hard not to get mad at Pen for this comment, reminding myself that she says and does dumb things sometimes. Uh, doing it for attention? I’m just exploring my sexual preferences like any normal, slightly pompous, single teenage girl. And by the way, Pen, dropping out of private education to join us in this comprehensive dumping ground just to piss your Dad off? I’m sure that wasn’t for attention in the slightest bit. Speaking of which, this school could definitely be the backdrop to mine and Topaz’s teen romance. Sure, it’s a concrete monstrosity with so little funding that we enjoy the same 70s décor our parents did, but that SIMPLY DOESN’T MATTER. Its Soviet-era chic, right? And she’s my Anna Karenina. <3

I get it; considering I’ve never spoken to Topaz properly, some people (like Minnie, you utter bitch) might think my deep and heartfelt affection for Topaz is “a bit shallow, babe”, but that’s complete bullshit. It’s not like wanting to stroke her creamy-white face and share my lunch with her is the highest form of Sapphic affection, right? And it’s totally not like I’m trying to displace all those weird, confusing hormones and feelings I have for my estranged boyfriend, either. Nuh-uh. No way. Jack going to a university 350 miles away has nothing to do with me wanting to make Topaz the Sam-Ron to my Li-Lo. Anyway, my tender age means my moral compass is so poorly developed that I’ve got no qualms whatsoever about having a boyfriend and a girlfriend. It’s, uh, bohemian?

As much as I love to talk about myself, I really don’t have the time to be writing right now. My philosophy teacher seriously lost her shit over me not doing that ontological essay and, more importantly, I need to Facebook-stalk Topaz. Come on – how am I meant to make her mine if I don’t know what bands and motivational quotes she “likes”?

Please, gods of the internet, don’t let her be a Radiohead fan. 

Previously – UCAS Pervs Want My Personal Statement

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