Observantly oblivious

I know it when I see it, but not when it's aimed at me.

No, I'm not talking about pornography, nor about art. I'm talking about attraction. About crushes.

I'm very good at spotting relationships before they quite start to bud. I can see the way people look at each other, that little bit of nonverbal communication as they test out one another's waters, and I can spot who will become a couple and who won't with reasonable accuracy. Friends have been known to ask me whether or not someone likes them, or for my take on the reactions or what someone was really thinking.

I'm good at it. From posture to half shrugs to wrinkles to furrows and pursed lips, I can spot a lot with nonverbal communication. Chances are, if you like someone nearby, I'll be able to spot it, and even be able to tell you who it is you fancy, and whether or not they fancy you back.

Unless, that is, I am the one you fancy. If I am the target of your desire, you're going to have to hire a skywriter to tell me that you like me. And yes, in that way. And yes, me.

I've lived my life through a series of crushes. Some of them have turned out to be reciprocal. One or two have even blossomed into relationships. But far more often, I've been bemoaning the fact that I can't find someone who likes me while talking to someone who does (and I'm too stupid to see it).

There was a girl in high school who had a huge crush on me. I liked talking to her, liked hanging out with her, even found her attractive. But I never thought she liked me. By the time I figured it out, she'd moved on.

That story can be repeated over and over; the only thing you'd need to change would be 'in high school,' and sometimes 'a girl.'  There have been people that I have talked to long after the fact, admitted that I had a crush on them, and found out that they had one on me at the same time.

Somehow, I can spot it across a room, across a field, even on television. But not when it's right in front of me.

It's because I'm stupid.