The Crush

Suddenly I find myself in that movie you've seen a hundred times, the one with the plot so predictable, so boring, that if you had to watch the whole thing, your eyes would bleed. But this time, the twist caught me totally by surprise.

In this movie, a handsome, cocky young stud can have his pick of any female in his [town, campus, office]. After the hero brags too much about his [charm, riches, coolness], the hero's [best friend, co-captain, rival] singles out the nerdiest girl of all, the one they're always cracking wise about, and bets Cocky Stud that he cannot make the little nerdling fall in love with him.

Cocky Stud, secretly making fun of the nerdling behind her back, dates her. He pretends to be a gentleman, taking her to fantastic restaurants. Along the way, they [get caught in a cloudburst, use too much soap at the Laundromat, get pulled by her big dog into a fountain]. Then it dawns on the heartless jerk that [with her hair down, under those glasses, without those pink high top sneakers], the nerdlette has a beautiful soul. He falls in love with her despite himself, despite how being seen with her savages his hipster reputation. He counts the moments until he can see her again.

And since you've seen the movie, you know what happens next: the thrilled-but-scarcely-believing-her luck nerdlette, now turned winsome, somehow finds out about the bet.

But no no, we haven't gotten to that part of the movie yet. Tap Dance doesn't know that I started dating her to lose weight and/or make fun of her. The first couple of times I dated Tap Dance, we had no chemistry. The time passed slowly. There were awkward silences, and then we both spoke at the same time, and went through the self-conscious, "Sorry, you talk first," "No, you go first" routine. And I kept up my normal pleasant façade when I showed up for our date last week. I waited briefly in her living room with her hotter sister, Belly, exchanging pleasantries with her parents, Clogging and Irish. I figured Tap would show up in her usual overalls. Instead, she came sparkling down the stairs in a little black dress and high heels. I was smitten.

Tap Dance, entirely unaware, has turned the joke back on me. Who knows where this crush might lead? I catch my co-workers grinning as I walk past. The neighbors will talk if they find out. Mothers will usher their kindergartners out of my path, whispering, "Look away, Brie, that man is a tap dancer."

I have to end it with Tap Dance somehow. But how? I can't honestly say I don't like her. Maybe… maybe I could make her hate me, so she'll want to dump me. I could off-handedly tell Tap that, sure, she's cute, but she's no passionate hotty like her cousins Flamenco and Salsa. I'd shrug casually and mention that she doesn't have the class of her nephew, Swing. Or maybe I should stand her up on Tuesday nights without phoning her, until she takes the hint.

But… how can I resist that smile? How can I harm the one who accepted me as I am? Tap Dance took me in, asking nothing for herself in return. Now when I'm with her, instead of taking notes so my friends can laugh later, I want to do her proud. When we're not together in class, I am actually considering (gasp) practicing. On my own time.

Take heed, all you balconeers, all you virtual Statlers and Waldorfs. One day you're reading this, shaking your head at my foolishness. The next, you decide to come to a tap dance performance, just to "check it out." I warn you: rhythm is addictive. Beware that fun-loving dance form, grinning at you as open-faced and square as Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland. "Let's put on a show!" she'll say, and you'll find yourself volunteering to help.

Oh, Tap Dance looks sooo harmless. But once she gets inside your heart, Tap Dance takes control. Tap Dance is a bitch. ##