My Man Crush

As if this blog was an online version of the Jerry Springer show, I come to you with a stunning confession.  I have a man crush.

Like the talk show, this disclosure would be better off not involving disgruntled former lovers, the unending verbal and physical confrontations of little people, or Steve.  But somehow I find a new engagement with my usual disdain for tabloid programming.  This public blogging space may help me come to terms with what it means to be attracted to another guy.

Wait. Attracted?  Did I just write that?

Yes, I did.  And I’m learning to be cool with it.  Allow me to refer to the Urban Dictionary to clarify what I mean by man crush:

1. A man who has a crush on another man without sexual attraction.;
2. When a straight man has a “crush” on another man, not sexual but kind of idolizing him.; and
3. A man having extreme admiration for another man, as though he wants to be him.

I feel I fit most easily into the third definition.  I’ve found myself in awe of a man.  I often imagine myself being him, doing the wonderful things he does, living his incredible life.   It’s not that my heart flutters every time I’m near him or that I find myself getting lost in the swirls of his eyes.  (Though admittedly, I do get a tad nervous in his presence and my palms sweat–but that happens a lot, so it’s no biggie, right?) No, that’s not why I’m interested in him.  I’m crushing because this man is a genius, an orator, a penetrating writer, a genuine human being, a friend, a professor, and a leader.

This makes matters worse:  My man-crush is not simply a man-crush.  If it were, I could reason my way through the pure platonic enjoyment of this man.  What complicates things is this man is also an academic heart-throb.  He’s a scholarly rock-star.  He is not just my man crush.  He is my intellectual and professional man crush.

And here’s the part where I have to press pause for a second.  I think many of us–students, young professionals, heck–even old professional non-students–find ourselves in admiration of someone.  Call it human nature.  Call it finding a mentor.  Call it knowing what you value in life.  Call it what you will.  Call it an intellectual and professional man crush. Heck, I did. (why do I keep writing heck?)

I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest that it is healthy to have this sort of infatuation.  See, I told you I could reason my way through this.  But hear me out:  as an individual entering a new field, it is important to understand the movers and shakers.  And I write that generally because I think this situation applies inside and outside of academia.

When you find yourself in new professional seas, you need landmarks to help you navigate.  See that person whose book is cited most frequently by others?  He’s saying something original.  Find out why it is original. Do you keep hearing about someone who attracts business because of their demeanor and abilities?  Observe them (a.k.a. Facebook stalk them). There you’ll discover how to carry yourself confidently, how to think against the grain, and how to synthesize viewpoints to make the whole greater than the sum of parts. This, I know, is a gentle interpretation of having a man crush.  Yet, it is central to understanding why looking up to someone can be the right perspective, professionally and personally.

The slightly harsher version of dissecting the man crush would force us to see the downsides of admiration–which can probably be contained in one word:  brown-nosing.  (Is that two words?)  We’ve all seen this in action. Subsequently, we’ve all had a little throw-up arrive in our mouths because of it.  Brown-nosing just doesn’t taste right. It takes the good parts of crushing–identifying leadership, recognizing value, wanting to establish a mentor-mentee relationship–and over-does them.  It lacks the art of being genuine–the central ingredient in making your man crush work for you.  Brown-nosers aren’t out to understand themselves and improve their lives and those of others.  Brown-nosers are just trying to get ahead, at whatever cost, no matter who is trampled in the process.

The line between crushing and sucking up is now clearly drawn.  I’ve admitted guilt on having a crush and plead innocent on being a sycophant.  Even coming out of the closet this far has taken part of the load off my shoulders.   Yet I know the biggest step is still ahead of me.  I have to face the music:  just who is it I’ve been crushing on?

Surprisingly, my man-crush does not make the top 100 “most crushed” men in history. (In case you don’t follow that link, Jesus of Nazareth came in at number one.  Number two?  Columbia, Maryland’s own Edward Norton–star of American History X and The Incredible Hulk. Apologies go out to any other religious and/or historical figures, or other men of significance.  Maybe you do want to follow that link.)

Nor does “my man”–love calling him that–enjoy much recognition outside the world of academia or even the fields of study I’m interested in.  In my world, he’s A-list.  But in the world out there, he’s probably C-list.  That’s ok.  Of course, I like having this man all to myself.  And I’m not pawning after the same person everyone else is.  Does that make me unique?

My man crush will likely be forgotten by the pages of history.  He’s fairly normal in many ways.  In the small social circles and professional networks I find myself in, however, he’s kind of a big deal.  Everybody knows him.  Everybody knows the people that know him.  Everybody knows the people that once knew him but now know other people.  He’s our Kevin Bacon, without the whole Madoff thing.  He’s the sun to our solar system.

So let’s call him Sol.  I can’t give away his real name, but investigative minds out there (and those who know me well) probably can figure this out.  I offer this post as a tribute to Sol, a sun-salutation, to extoll his being.  Not Sol’s specific excellencies–we could go into detail–but, instead, the fact that our “relationship” even exists.  I praise the man-crush.  I am in awe of its ability to inspire.  And I encourage all of you to go forth and establish your own man or woman crushes for that same reason.

With the words of Big Pun as our mantra, I close:

“I’m not a playa, I just (man) crush a lot”