A Broad Abroad: Who is Your Non-Sexual Crush?
“I have an NSC on my friend’s husband,” my friend confided to me over cocktails last week.
“What’s an NSC?”
“A Non-Sexual Crush.”
I’m well aware of this phenomenon—I just didn’t realize it had a name. It’s a great term though, very handy for labeling those strange creatures that we would love to say, hug or hop on a bicycle built for two with, but would never conceive of, say, actually doing the horizontal mambo with.
So who is my NSC?
Those eyebrows, that moral center, that passionate liberal streak—swoon! It may sound crazy, but I know at least two other women with the same problem. One jumped for joy when she found at Waterston lived in her building, only to find herself gaping at him like a moron when she bumped into him at the local diner. The other friend paid $10 to join me at an NYU symposium on—I kid you not—the world of “Law & Order.” Sam was late, but when his tall, crane-like figure came dashing into the room, our hearts leaped. In a, you know, non-sexual way.
And at a time when I really don’t have any ahem, sexual, crushes on anyone, it’s kind of refreshing to cultivate a few more NSCs. Stephen Fry. The late Jerry Orbach (yes, I clearly have a type). The portly old pensioner at the local pub who always finds me a table where I can plug my laptop.
Be still my heart.