What's the most unhinged thing you've done for a crush? — I'll go first...
on crush culture, crashing out, the art of the Spotify Stalk and other inane things we do when we like someone
I started working on my first draft of this piece after an impromptu night out. I was buzzing after lots of pints, giggling over “the universe” and the allure of possibility and could not for the life of me fall asleep. I went into autopilot, writing as fast as I could, typos be damned, those were future Julia’s problem. The following morning, I realised that the Hemingway method (write drunk, edit sober) isn’t quite for me (I opened a new document and started from scratch), but I think this anecdote properly communicates my enthusiasm for this piece.
My credentials and confessions of a professional yearner
The first thing you should know about me is that I love love. I also love having a crush. These, however, are distinct. For me, crushes are synonymous with excitement; they bring on a certain giddiness usually reserved for teenagers. It’s about the prospect of someone you don’t know yet, the possibility. Growing up, I always had a crush on someone at any given moment. It was never that deep, usually just something to keep things interesting, someone to sneak glances at during class and gush about with friends over lunch. I tell my friends about the love of my life on a monthly basis. As someone who’s a bit of a control freak usually pretty rational, I can appreciate the feeling of things being [a little] out of my control, of the scary moment when you realise just how hard you can fall. I’ve recently been reminded of my love for a silly little crush, and how we can all act a little crazy when we like (or convince ourselves we like) someone.
If you don’t think you get a bit crazy, you’re probably lying to yourself, and if you’re thinking no experience is unique as you read through, let me assure you that you are not alone in your delusions. I recently convinced myself (and every friend that would listen for the past week) that someone was the love of my life because I kept running into them in the most unlikely of places, and so, the only reasonable conclusion was that the universe was putting us together. (I also drunkenly told his best friend that I had recently told my best friend I thought he was the love of my life, so maybe some experiences are unique after all).
The art of the Spotify Stalk and other unhinged behaviours
Few things are hotter (to me) than a man who is chronically offline. Less than 300 followers, and their most recent post is a sunset pic from 2019? Hot. The confused look they give me when I quote a viral TikTok or other brainrot reference? Hot and endearing. The problem with the chronically offline type, though, is that there is very little to go on. I think part of the charm of a crush is the lack of information. The less you know, the more you can project, the more delulu you can be. You have to get creative. You might lurk on LinkedIn (pro-tip: make sure to set your account to private), have a look through their parents’ Facebook profiles (a popular option according to my extensive research, I have however been locked out of my account for ages and need to sort it out ASAP), or my personal favourite — the Spotify stalk.
I’ve recently discovered some other friends who are familiar with this art (game recognises game), however, for the overwhelming majority who is uninitiated, let me break it down for you. First and foremost, I think you can learn a lot about someone from their general music taste. If they’re not on Spotify, that also speaks volumes (pardon the pun). I’m always curious about the motivations behind the people paying for Apple Music (shout out to my best friend who’s still on her family plan, I hate not having collaborative playlists). If you’re voluntarily not on Spotify, I’m curious to hear why, please sound off in the comments. For the people with taste, I’ve broken down the Spotify stalk into 2 simple steps below:
1. Identify the account — this can be easy enough, a simple first and last name search and looking through profile pictures. If you can’t narrow it down, have a look through their playlists and cross reference with artists you know they like. However, if you’re not successful in this, you might have to take a slightly more unhinged approach. Formerly successful methods include going through friends’ profiles to see if anything pops up.
2. The desktop experience — from here, the world is your oyster. The basics, like figuring out their favourite genre and artists, are obvious enough. If you want to get really unhinged though, have a look through their profile through the desktop app. Here you get some critical information such as the date songs were added to their playlists. I’ve found out about breakups weeks before the hard launch (e.g. scrubbing their ex from their feed, posting not-so-cryptic messages or thirst traps on their stories) this way.
You’re not crazy, and the comfort of recognition
A friend and I recently agreed that one of the nicest things you can say, and hear from someone, is you’re not crazy. It’s comforting and reassuring, and often accompanied by their own similar stories. Recognition is at the heart of connection. With that in mind (and also because I’m nosey), I decided to conduct some extensive exploratory research (read: I put up a question box on my Instagram story). The overwhelming feeling I had when reading through people’s responses was: either you’re not crazy or all of us are crazy. Of the people who sent in their responses (thanks guys, I love you), the most popular genre was snooping through family details (22%), followed by lurking on LinkedIn and orchestrating some kind of physical run-in (19%). I was left with some questions, especially as someone who’s regularly randomly running into people (how are you guys finding this information?! How much time is being dedicated to this quest? I ask not from a place of judgement but one of anthropological curiosity and admiration). People were looking though their crush’s Instagram following for a variety of reasons, including trying to figure out their type, checking to see if their ex was still blocked, and making sure they didn’t follow any rogue accounts (exclusively following models and former Love Island contestants or men-with-podcasts are deal breakers for many). On a key indicator that I might have started liking someone new, I felt seen by everyone else who mentioned obsessively checking whether they had viewed your Instagram stories. I felt for my fellow lovers of the chronically offline and commend their creativity when searching for crumbs of information. I had a couple of people confessing to looking through the Instagram profiles of university Societies (been there, done that, ended up attending a couple of Film Society events as a result), or frequenting their crush’s favourite spots on a regular basis (I discovered one of my favourite cafés/bar because my friend had a thing for someone who worked there).
Dating apps are ruining everything (a very new and hot take, I know)
My crush renaissance has once again reminded me of the woes of the apps. I know I’m not the first person to bravely state that Hinge is ruining everything. I’m not a dating app hater; in fact, I have done my fair share of swiping. If we’re looking at dating strictly as a numbers game, apps are an easy way to maximise. What most people [who possess at least one single self-reflecting bone in their body] will admit is that other people on the apps are not the only problem. We also become the most superficial versions of ourselves when we swipe. If I meet someone I like at a bar, I’m seldom performing mental gymnastics trying to figure out their height, but if I’m scrolling through a menu my date options, anyone under 5’10 is an immediate discard (I’m 5’7 and own lots of heels). I’ve seen multiple people I’ve liked in real life on the apps, and I would have never gone for them based on their profiles. There’s simultaneously too much and not enough information. Crushes thrive on mystery, on slowly unravelling their personality. The anachronistic details that only come out after a few drinks are often the most interesting things about someone, and will rarely be expressed through their curated responses to generic prompts. Everyone is too available, there’s no excitement, no mystery, no risky texts. There’s also very little room for letting things develop organically. Before your first conversation, you already know their job, hobbies, political leanings, alma mater and neighbourhood. There’s a pre-defined level of interest, but also a pre-defined course of events. You’re going off facts, not possibility.
Summertime serendipity and leaning into nostalgia
As the temperatures start to rise (for everyone in the northern hemisphere — shout out to my London readers who bravely faced a heat wave last week, I am pressing publish from an equally sweltering Bologna), I invite you to lean into the magic of Summer. Everyone gets a little stupid in the heat, inhibitions evaporate, and the symptoms of low-grade sunstroke might make you feel a little drunk (though it might also be that second Aperol spritz). I was recently told by a friend that I was too outgoing and whimsical (I’m not sure if this was a compliment, but I’ll take it as one) to meet the love of my life on a dating app. I’m not sure he’s being dotted around the city in a series of increasingly unlikely run-ins, but at least for this season, I’m inviting everyone to join me in putting down their phones, stepping outside and opening themselves up to Summer serendipity. If you need a nudge to look around and talk to strangers, let this be it. If you need advanced absolution for any unhinged behaviour, rest easy knowing we’re all acting a little inane in the heat. Go forth and conquer, I’m manifesting a Summer romance for you!
P.S. If you still need some courage or inspiration, I highly recommend having a look at Alison Hutchison’s reports straight from the front lines through her great offline dating experiment! And now that I’ve bared it all, I’m curious, what is the most unhinged thing you’ve done for a crush?
I have said this once and I will say this again, you must must must write a book. Your literary voice is something to envy, its giving modern Carrie Bradshaw :)
I looooove the idea of writing drunk and editing sober but tbh I don’t think the Hemingway life is for me SADLY