Thursday

Review: Pointless crushes

All the exhilaration and misery of love, without any of the fluids: critics elsewhere can be forgiven for dismissing the practice of having pointless crushes as, well, pointless. A bleakly utilitarian view of the world would consign these brief, intense loves to oblivion, but, like art for art’s sake, lust for lust’s sake can give meaning and purpose to an otherwise drab existence. By the end of your average stupid crush, it’s true, any romance has usually degenerated into boredom and frustration, but it’s the journey and not the destination that counts.

Despite early 90s predictions of a 21st century filled with virtual sex – 2001 spliced with Eyes Wide Shut, only more lowbrow and with Bollywood song & dance numbers – real, squelchy sex is still with us. Yet the stupid crush – the organic version of VR sex – gives ordinary, common-or-garden lust the weird sheen of the virtual. It’s out there on the edge of the acceptable, pushing at the boundaries of plausibility and decency.

Pointless crushes: Cheap, disposable, and the only life it can ruin is your own. 7 out of 10