The Lady-Crush Phenomenon

When I was seven, I decided that I would marry my friend, Christopher Honeybun, because I imagined that life would be much more fun if I had his ridiculously cute surname.  However, I never felt any real affection for Mr Honeybun and my first actual crush – paralyising, intoxicating and blush-inducing – was on a woman.

As soon as I met my new piano teacher, Josephine, I was breathless with adoration and awe.  Tall, willowy and possessing gazelle-like gracefulness, she caused heart palpitations each time she flashed her braces at me with a smile. I had never met anybody with such impeccable posture or ladylike daintiness.  When it became clear that Josephine was not particularly impressed by my arrhythmic, thumped-out rendition of Fur Elise, I resolved to practice cartwheels that I could execute across our lounge room as she chatted to my parents after my lessons.  Sadly, my gymnastic skill (or lack of skill) never succeeded in winning fair Josephine’s heart.   

This infatuation I had as a 10-year-old did not lead to any future desire to wear sensible sandals, shave my hair or listen to KD Lang.  I am very sure of the team for which I bat. However, regardless of my confidence that I will, one day, walk down the aisle towards a groom of the male variety, I continue to experience crushes on some wonderful women.

It is quite common for girls to develop purely platonic lady-crushes.  This phenomenon does not stem from a desire to re-enact the pool scene from Wild Things though.  Rather, the objects of a lady-crush usually embody characteristics that we women aspire to and hope to absorb by being in their company.

Fresh out of high school and new to the world of beer and student activism, I found myself tongue-tied and bashful whenever I was near a sweet little hippie who smelled of ylang ylang and had let her armpit hair grow into an impressive state of wilderness.  I envied her passions for social justice and raw mushrooms, her intimate knowledge of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and her steadfast serenity.  I yearned to be as confident and self-assured as she was, although I now realise that the mushrooms may have had something to do with her unflappable optimism. I imagined us working together in peaceful unity – handing out organic tofu to cheering refugees, singing while chained to Tasmanian redwoods and releasing fluffy lambs from abattoirs. 

Recently, I was utterly besotted with a middle-aged lady who stood in front of a room full of lawyers and talked about grammar and plain English for an hour.  I sat spellbound as she enthused about etymology and I was happily transfixed when she gesticulated about apostrophes.  I wished we could go out for a drink together – not in the hope that she would be for me what Ellen Degeneres was for Portia Di Rossi – but, rather, so we could discuss Pulitzer-prize winning novels all night and use words like “apropos” in normal conversation.  I longed to be as confident as she was in knowing when to use ‘that’ rather than ‘which’.  I wanted to be as interesting as her, as animated and articulate, as playful with puns and excited about semi-colons.

I love that there are so many enchanting women in the world.  And while there continue to be ladies who inspire us, challenge us and who are able to quote 17^th century poetry with passion, I will happily admit to occasionally swooning at a sister.