It’s a distinct feeling that every college student comes across in their lives when they are sitting with their friends and catch a glimpse of what they believe is the hottest man alive. From your positioning in the library, you don’t have an ideal view, but you can see his hair and barely make out his side profile. You whisper to your friends over the textbooks you’re supposed to be reading, “Don’t look he’s right behind you guys”. Everyone completes a full-body assessment of the man in question. This moment feels like nothing and everything at the same time. You hold your breath slightly and attempt to gauge how obvious the persistent glaring and mouthing of words and thumbs up across the table is. Upon self-reflection, you decide to brush past it and move on; you’re just in your head. But you can’t shake this feeling.  The love of your life attempts to act studious while you fangirl. Naturally, your friends feed your delusion like no other, even though they don’t see what you see in them. Inevitably, you have to wonder about this guy.  What does he study? What’s his star sign? What year is he? Why haven’t I seen him around? Who are his friends? Trying not to be too conspicuous, you scrutinise what he’s wearing- it’s almost alarming how well dressed he is… but you remind yourself that’s expected on the 4th floor of the Ussher. 

You leave that study session revived. Yet, a part of you was lost in that library, as you sat for two and a half hours not completing a single ounce of work and wondering what your babies would look like. But you have to move on. Seriously. He was 6’6 tall with beautiful locks of hair, but that era has to end. 

The next day, you return to the library with a sense of false hope, excited about the slim chance of seeing him again. As you sit in the deafening silence of Ussher, you hear people taking out their AirPods and the strained breaths of those struggling with their essays. Aimlessly, you gaze out at the field when, to your surprise, you spot him again. Is this fate? Perhaps. Suddenly, you start to wonder how you look and whether he even notices you, all while trying to play it cool. 

The concept of a library crush is quite a thrilling thing. You never know when you will see this highly anticipated man again. It’s like watching a fish in a fish tank. You don’t know anything about their lives as you observe it from the outside. There comes a point in a long library stint where you have gotten so bored trying to do the lecture readings that we have to settle for finding a man in Doc Martins who likely inhabits the arts block as a film or English major and wants to be a “creative”. Your friends and you will text whenever you see him out in the wild. You failed to figure out his name, but for now, you settle without it and just envision what type of name he looks like he has. You will spot this campus celebrity occasionally reading in the library or on the lawn. Is he reading Socrates for fun or for coursework? An ever-present question that will remain an alarming mystery.

 But, the most crumbling yet bonding feeling is when you meet someone who knows him or, even better, someone else who also has eyes on him. It’s like someone telling you they know Paul Mescal. What do you mean you know my celebrity crush aka my Tuesday morning BESS boy library acquaintance? You realise it was too good to be true and you can’t gatekeep him for much longer. You both stand in solidarity, appreciating his beauty and asking each other the same questions as if you already know the answers. At times, it feels almost impossible to act seriously in such a situation. It’s even more challenging to describe your feelings to someone who doesn’t understand your underlying agony, pain, excitement, and heartbreak. Everything that encapsulates a young, flirty teenage romance seems to rest solely on those three minutes of intense eye contact during exam season, and you wonder if anyone else noticed it.

I am writing this as I sit in the Boland Library. Every 20 minutes I contemplate if I should leave. Ultimately, that decision is in the hands of whoever walks into this library and will motivate me to pretend to work for another 15 minutes in an attempt to look engrossed in my studies. The played-out library crush is something every college student undergoes, yet also secretly indulges in despite their qualms. Amid exam stresses and homework boredom, one’s mind can easily be distracted by someone who sits diagonally from you on the third floor of the Ussher. That one late Thursday evening, while your friends are out,  your vision is blurred and suddenly you forget what your “type” actually is. At that moment, anyone’s back profile seems somewhat suitable and can become your newest crush. Like any bored college student, this person will always sit in the back of your mind. This whimsical fixation of yours has nudged you to adjust your hair and apply a hint of lipgloss, thinking maybe your future husband will stroll in at any moment, swipe their student ID, take a long look at the open seats, and change everything for you. 

The weirdest feeling of all is witnessing this mysterious side character in your life in the flesh, outside the domain of the library. You’re partly shocked, yet also relieved (I mean thank God they have a life outside chaining themselves to the Hamilton five days a week).  But still, you’re starstruck to find them at Pav Friday with their friends. This crush is everything a girl could want – all the excitement and adrenaline of a ‘talking stage’ minus any real conversation. This one-sided relationship relies solely on spontaneous campus encounters as you both trudge up the staircase and decide to ‘randomly’ sit at opposite desks. But it’s right when you think everything is perfect that this love affair crashes and burns. Like all of your past situations, you are too emotionally attached, too close, too dependent, too needy, and likely have gotten the ick.  You are obligated to forget them and move on. For now, they will remain a distant memory.