A man-crush is more than just admiration for another guy. It's a crush on someone you dream of hanging out with, something you think is the height of cool. Perhaps you want to be him, but more likely, you just want to be really, really good friends with him. You want to grab beers and play Playstation and talk philosophically with him.
I have met my man-crush only twice. He's an Australian celebrity chef who I've interviewed for a magazine profile, in the process of which I have been privy to his entire life story. Now, I keep tabs on him via social media, often sending him photos of my version of the chicken parmigiana or seafood marinara from his recipe book. Sometimes he re-posts or messages me back, but our two-way relationship stops there. From then on, the friendship is entirely in my head.
I fantasise about going for early morning surfs together, about swapping recipes for sugar-free granola, and about chopping wood and building fires and doing all sorts of manly things together. I imagine we text each other stupid in-jokes re-hashed from "you had to be there" moments. I visualise introducing him to my circle of friends as "my mate" (or bro, bud, pal, or any other synonym to connote male bonding).
Now, we shouldn't confuse a man-crush with a bromance. These are entirely different concepts. Where bromances are real, man-crushes are imagined. Bromances are close platonic friendships with two-way emotional connections, man-crushes are fantasies brought on by perceptions of coolness. Bromances are Matt Damon and Ben Affleck circa Good Will Hunting days, man-crushes are the way you'd feel if you saw Hugh Jackman at the gym and wanted him to spot you.
There are a few common qualifiers that should bring about a man-crush. A crush candidate should be good-looking, but not exceptionally beautiful (e.g. Daniel Craig, not David Gandy). He must be very successful, but not in the industry you work in, but rather the one you dream of working in. He must seem carefree and easy-going; intelligent and dedicated. He should be manly but not misogynist; daring but not dangerous.
If you're straight, having a man-crush doesn't make you gay. If you're gay, a man-crush doesn't mean you're verging on infidelity. Man-crushing is friend fanaticism: the mental process by which you fixate over how genuinely cool another man is and how much you just want to be his buddy.
There are some downsides to having a man-crush; namely, perception vs. reality. Despite what my imagination tells me, for example, I am actually afraid to get close to my man-crush. Just in case, you know, he turns out not to be the man I think he is. I like the illusion, the Facebook-façaded version of his life, and I don't want anything to ruin that.
On the flip side, there's also the risk that man-crush can become creepy. If your man-crush is your iPhone wallpaper, you're crushing too hard.
If thinking about beer pong with him is more interesting than sex with your actual partner, you're crushing too hard. If you're starting to feel insignificant, unworthy, or you're comparing yourself to him so often you're continually miserable with your own life, you're definitely crushing too hard.
Man-crushes are a form of modern worship, and I'm all for them. But let's keep man-crushes where they belong: in that imaginative part of your brain where you drive an Aston Martin, have your own vineyard, and have George Clooney on speed dial. All of these things, I am confident, are better in your head than in real life.
