Having a Crush as an Adult Was Less About Him Than It Was About Me

I had my first crush as an adult when I was almost 25 years old. My first thought was: "Am I not already too old for this sh*t?"

And trust me, I meant it in a very positive way. It surprised me that, at 25, an age that sounds a little more serious, I could still feel something so similar to what I felt when I was 13. It's exciting, it's scary, it's overwhelming, sometimes underwhelming. It's like feeling the whole damn zoo in your stomach all over again and, somehow... refreshing.

At an age when you're supposed to think about rent, work, taxes, what you're going to meal-prep for next week, and whether you're on the right track to financial freedom, it almost feels silly that a crush can still occupy so much of my mind. Yet, it still does.

At first, I thought the biggest mystery was whether he liked me back. Turns out, the bigger mystery was why I liked him so much in the first place.

Once I stopped analysing him and started analysing my own feelings and thought patterns, my crush became less of a romantic story and more of an exercise in self-reflection.

Here's what I found.

Finding 1: "Maybe it's just a signal that you're longing for a genuine connection"

I have to admit, I have a habit of developing feelings for someone who's simply being nice. Maybe they listen attentively because what I say has an important impact on their work (we're colleagues). Maybe they try their best to keep the conversation going because they're afraid of awkward silence (just like everyone else).

And somehow, I willingly enter my "delulu era" and convince myself they have a special interest in me. How lonely must I be to jump to that conclusion?

After laughing at how “delusional" I was, I started asking myself a kinder question:

"What am I needing so much right now that this tiny interaction feels so big?"

(While trying very hard not to judge myself for catching feelings.)

Perhaps I'd gone days just living and working without having a meaningful conversation with anyone. Perhaps a part of me simply wanted someone to genuinely care about what I had to say or what had been on my mind lately.

As adults, we're all busy.
Work gets busy.
Friends become busier.
Everyone has their own lives. 

And when someone is willing to spend even a little bit of their time listening to us, that small interaction can feel much bigger than it actually is.

We become so good at functioning that we forget we're also supposed to feel connected. And sometimes, the person who makes us feel heard in a random moment ends up occupying far more space in our minds than they probably should, not because they're extraordinary, but because the feeling is.

It made me realise that sometimes what we mistake for romantic attraction is actually a longing to feel seen. Maybe your crush isn't filling your heart with butterflies. Maybe they're simply reminding you how long it's been since someone truly listened.

Finding 2: "You might like the feeling of having a crush more than you like the person"

Someone once said, "A crush is a lack of information," and I think that's very true.

If I got to know him a little better and discovered a few red flags that went against what I look for in an ideal partner, would I still like him?

I honestly don't know.

Maybe I enjoy the feeling a little too much: the excitement of fantasising about who they are, or simply idealising a version of them in my head, imagining we'd look good together or make a great match.

It's not the best foundation for a relationship. A healthy relationship requires more than a few flirty glances, interesting banter, or attractive features. It takes understanding and knowing someone well enough to accept who they are now and who they might become in the future.

A crush gives us very little of that, so we create stories to fill in the gaps.

Fully acknowledging that, I've come to realise that maybe that's all I want to experience right now: a nice, exciting feeling that adds a little flavour to my life.

If I get to know him better and discover compatibility, understanding, and empathy, I'll be happy.

If not, I'm also happy just having a crush.

I don't need to rush every feeling into becoming a relationship. Sometimes it's enough to acknowledge the feeling, enjoy it for what it is, and let it teach me something before deciding what to do with it.

Finding 3: "You don't want to be the 13-year-old girl who didn't do anything about her crush"

(Good news! This finding is a positive one.)

It's what has been on my mind every time I think about this feeling.

At 13, I was scared of expressing my feelings for someone special. I was scared of judgement. I was scared of becoming the topic of my classmates' conversations.

To be fair, I wasn't even confident in myself back then.

"What is it about me that's going to make the other person like me?"

That was all I thought about. And yet, I never came up with an answer.

More than a decade has passed. I've learned my self-worth. I've learned to accept both my strengths and weaknesses, and to believe that I'm worthy of being loved, no matter what.

Yet, when I'm faced with my crush, I fold like that same 13-year-old girl.

It's funny how self-worth works.

Most days, I genuinely believe in myself.

Then one person catches my attention, and suddenly my brain decides to conduct a full performance review of my personality.

A part of me, the part that still believes I'm amazing and worthy of love, always tries to fight back.

I once gathered all my courage and thought I'd approach my crush in a subtle way to ask him out for a... walk. Yet, a bigger part of me still hesitated. And I did nothing.

The same fears resurfaced: fear of not being enough, fear of rejection, fear of embarrassment, fear of becoming the next gossip topic, or simply the awkwardness if he found out and things became weird between us.

It's very much an internal fight. One side is the past version of me. The other is the person I'm trying to become: someone who's carefree, unafraid to stay true to her feelings, and willing to follow them enough to actually do something.

Looking back, I realise it's still a work in progress.

But it's fascinating to see how far I've come in building my self-worth, believing I can do something daunting, and refusing to give in to fear.

Maybe my crush isn't threatening my self-worth at all.

Maybe it's revealing the parts that are still healing.

Finding 4: Adult crushes come with adult standards

At 13, it was pretty simple to like a guy. As long as he was nice, had good grades (or at least grades that weren't too bad), was genuinely interested in me, and was single, that was enough.

Now?

Is he kind, responsible and polite?

Is he actually single? Not "single with multiple situationships" or "technically single but still emotionally unavailable because he hasn't moved on from his past relationship."

Do we share similar values?

Do we see life the same way?

Does he have goals?

Does his lifestyle fit with mine?

Thirteen-year-old me would've ignored every red flag if he smiled at me once.

Twenty-five-year-old me has boundaries now. Beyond the dreamy, whimsical stage of liking someone comes the harder truth: he might not be the right person in the end.

The checklist for my ideal partner has grown longer as I've grown older.

I guess that's part of being an adult. Knowing that chemistry matters, but compatibility determines whether two people can actually be together.

Yet, the crush still exists.

Maybe that's what I love most about having a crush as an adult. It proves that growing up hasn't made me cold.

I've become more practical, more careful.

But somewhere underneath all the spreadsheets, bills, deadlines and responsibilities, my heart still has room to become ridiculously excited over someone.

In a way, I'm glad I can still experience this sh*t again.

What Should I Do With My Adult Crush?

Nothing. Or everything I want to, I guess.

I've also realised that I can enjoy the butterflies without letting them dictate my mood, my productivity, or my sense of self.

That's probably the biggest difference between being 13 and being 25.

I still get butterflies. But now I know they're just visitors, not permanent residents.

Maybe your crush will tell you you're lonelier than you realised.

Maybe it'll remind you that you're ready to be vulnerable again.

Maybe it'll expose insecurities you thought you'd outgrown, or show you just how much your confidence has actually improved.

Whatever it reveals, I don't think the lesson is really about the other person, but about yourself.

That's the real gift of having a crush as an adult.

Not that it leads to a relationship, but that it quietly points us back to ourselves.

It asks us what we're longing for, what we're afraid of, what we're ready for, and what still needs healing.

Whether I ever ask him to go for that walk almost feels secondary now.

The more important thing is that, somewhere along the way, I learned to understand myself a little better.