I met Grant when I decided to go on a road trip to Nashville. My best friend Sarah, her boyfriend Kyle, and I sporadically hopped in my car and drove to Tennessee on a mission to find out what the big deal was about Music City. Sarah had a friend who lived in the area that said he’d take us out and show us a good time. We couldn’t resist some guaranteed fun in a foreign city and off we went.
I had heard about Grant many times from Sarah. I knew he was a musician and moved to Nashville to go to school for music business. I knew he had a cute grin. I knew he had charm that killed with the ladies. But I wasn’t looking to meet any guys on this weekend trip, let alone one that would make my heart fall into my stomach, but when I wasn’t looking—there was Grant.
After we finally made it to Nashville and sat down to eat at dinner with Grant at a local Mexican restaurant, I knew this guy was special. His extraordinary lust for life drew me in immediately. I had to make this guy like me, not even in a romantic way, but just as a person. You know those kinds of people—they’re funny, witty, bubbly. They take over the room and make everyone listen without asking. And you want that person to adopt you as their friend. That was Grant.
As my friend Sarah and her boyfriend made googly-eyes at each other on their respective stools at a bar called Winners, I spent the night talking to Grant. With the mission to win this kid over, I flashed my brightest smile and flipped my hair in all the ways that seemed to work prior times with guys, but he seemed to look past all that. He actually wanted to know about more than just if I “liked to party” and what my major was. We shared pitchers of beer and talked about everything we could possibly fit into a few hours of conversation. I think I started to believe something was abrewin’ with Grant when he confessed his dream job was to be a music supervisor—the same dream job as me.
“It’s kismet!” I squealed to Sarah in the bathroom. “It’s totally kismet. Who else on the planet wants an obscure job like that?” “What the hell is kismet?” She asked, reapplying some lipgloss. “You’re weird.”
I was weird. But so was Grant. I could work with this. Kismet: another word for fate or destiny. People like Grant don’t just come into your life by accident or coincidence. I was convinced this was the Big Man upstairs doing me some favors. That night, I had my first big crush since high school. He had bombarded my life in an instant and now I couldn’t remember the moments before him. I guess that’s the thing about crushes—they just crash into your life unannounced and wreak havoc on your sanity and rationality in
I drove back to Chicago with a heavy heart, knowing that this weekend was fleeting. Grant could never be anything that I wanted him to be. He came to visit my hometown once over the summer. We spent the night watching a Bob Dylan documentary and talking. We shared a sweet, innocent goodbye kiss that sent shivers through my body and off he went—back to Nashville.
We still keep in touch and talk almost every day (sometimes for hours). He sends me songs that he says he writes for me, and
I write poems (that he will never see). Did I mention that Grant is in a band? He is the lead singer of that band, and I’m not some idiot that thinks other girls aren’t interested. Sometimes, I like living in my little denial bubble, plugging my ears, and yelling, “Lalalala!” We both like to pretend that we’re each other’s something when both of us know that we really can’t be anything right now. He’s “geographically undesirable” as my mother would say, but she doesn’t realize that this crush is also undeniable.
This essay was submitted by Crushable reader Katie Garrity. You can follow her on Twitter @Katiegarrity.