Having a crush as an adult is sooo embarrassing.

Why am I suddenly back in middle school… but with a 401k this time?

Having a crush as an adult is so embarrassing.

Like, genuinely humiliating.

Because what do you mean I pay all my own bills, hold down a job, keep my house clean like a domesticated wife archetype, cater to my dog like she’s a human baby — but I come undone over a simple, contagious smile thrown my way? Like, girl. Focus. Your rent is due.

When you’re a kid and you have a crush, everyone collectively hums into a chorus of “awww”s and call it puppy love. It’s innocently sweet — holding hands on the swing set, buying ice cream.

But as an adult, saying “I like this guy” sounds so middle school, so childish. Reporting back to my friends, Oh, he pinched my cheeks tonight, and genuinely being butterflied by it feels even more childish. As a girl so focused on being independent, focusing on my art and writing, making sure the bills are getting paid, it feels so embarrassing to counteract me holding the ship down with micro-interactions that have me blushing like I’m thirteen again. By 26, I thought I would have grown out of over analyzing eye contact and replaying small interactions like they mean something. The worst part is being self-aware enough to recognize that, but no matter how hard I try, I keep seeing his smile in the back of my mind.

When we were younger, having a crush was dramatic and felt like the end of the world, but it was still safe. There weren’t any real consequences. If your crush in middle school didn’t like you back, you’d find someone else next week during recess. As an adult, liking someone feels like risking something — it’s the quiet pressure we all try to ignore, like we’re running out of time. As if every flirtation or relationship is supposed to lead somewhere — and if it doesn’t, then we’re ultimately doomed to end up alone. It’s as if every smile and wink is the beginning to the end of our free-flowing-20s’ spirit.

But in a world of skyrocketing rent and healthcare bills stacking up on the dining room table, is it wrong to entertain something that momentarily alleviates that stress and makes you feel like a kid again? Isn’t that something we’re all chasing after anyways? Just a sparkle of our innocence back.

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The shameful thing is: we are equally guilty of flirting like actual middle schoolers with a 401k. He pinches my cheeks, flicks my pens, and I’m flicking the tip of his hat or turning it sideways on him. Yes, very mature, adult-flirting happening here. At least from my position: Mr. Eggroll (as we’ll refer to him) and I work together and he’s just a little… like a decade older than me, so outwardly asking him out does not really seem like my best move. I’d rather just slowly tease him a little and see where it goes. After all, the last thing I need is my already high-school-gossipy workplace to be whispering about this. You know the saying about workplace romances… and normally I am the biggest advocate of running far from it — but against my better judgement… he’s just so cute. Besides, when has a little smiling ever hurt anyone?

Or maybe I’m invested in this storyline because I want a reason to relate to Taylor Swift’s “I Can See You,” one of her best vault tracks — argue with the wall.

It all started nearly a year ago at this point, when Mr. Eggroll, who had previously been someone I’d just clown around with during downtime, just became noticeably shyer around me. His “hello”s became whispers I almost missed — to which I mentally screamed no, no, abort mission because I knew what was coming next. Secret smiles exchanged, a lot of childlike teasing, him sneaking me crab rangoons throughout my shifts, end-of-the-night watching TikToks together, me asking about his family and his cooking endeavors, him asking about my paintings and art. I don’t even want to admit this, but I may or may not have slipped a framed sketchbook page disguised in a brown Trader Joe’s bag at his station for Christmas. Someone cue Taylor Swift’s “Down Bad”…

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Now, will anything actually become of this? It’s been almost a year of playful teasing, and as exciting of a distraction it has been in a workplace that feels like prison sometimes, I’m not sure if it will ever go anywhere. After a year, you’d think something would’ve happened if it was going to. Is that disappointing? It is what it is, nothing lost, nothing gained. Does my chest still race every single time we bump into each other? Admittedly, yes. Has he actually taken the initiative to ask me out officially? No.

For what it is, it’s been a fun distraction, something simple and sweet to look forward to on the days I’m dreading clocking in. I found myself wondering why do I keep getting excited at those tiny butterflies when it’s clearly not going anywhere? Then I realized, unless something official happens to solidify it — I am grateful enough that I had something light and fun to remind myself that I am not as broken as I thought and I’m still capable of feeling this way, just like I did when I was in middle school harboring my first crush.

After college, I was in such a rush to grow up — I got my first solo apartment at 22, working endlessly to be able to afford it — instead of just crashing with roommates and going out partying all the time. That’s how I ended up being 26ixty — a 26 year old gal feeling like a retired grandma who skips the clubs to paint with my dog. Being single, independent, and so wrapped up in my simple, cozy life for so long, I began to wonder: would I ever be capable of feeling that flutter of excitement again? How would a guy ever potentially fit into this life? So even if nothing becomes of the elusive Mr. Eggroll and I, at least I know that somewhere inside of me that little girl who dreamed of her happily ever after is still very much alive.

So, yes: having a crush as an adult is so embarrassing, but maybe it’s proof that our inner child still believes in a little bit of magic. Maybe it’s the silly, little emotions that remind us we’re alive.