Snooooopy, you are evil! E-vil!
I like that in a person.
Spooje to the rescue! You got a photo? Maybe an address?
Are you certain Mr. Right’s adoration is platonic? Perhaps, he is a nice guy and wants to do the right thing by his GF, who I will be seducing. Perhaps he is shy and knows nothing about your romantic intentions. Perhaps if he knew about them…
The direct approach is best.
You used to write stories about yourself and an unavailable guy? 
Really, though, did writing these stories make you feel any better? I’d imagine that they’d just remind you that you weren’t with the object of your affection.
And, Snooooopy, even if I was devious enough to consider planting incriminating evidence, I wouldn’t have the first clue as to how to actually do it.
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Spooje to the rescue! You got a photo? Maybe an address?
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Spooje, you’re my hero! Unfortunately, I don’t have a photo. Or even a name for that matter. I’ll have to work on that. I do know what hall she lives in, so that’s a good starting point. 
I am absolutely, positively sure that it’s platonic. I can sense these things. 
Hey, Miss Dippy.
That happnened to me in my freshman year of college. My perfect guy had a girlfriend. He stayed with her all four years of college. I never had a chance.
I would advise against getting in the way when there is a girlfriend involved. It’s just too messy. Let it run it’s course, stay out the way, and if they break up naturally-
WOO-HOO!
But if they don’t-
Let’s assume, to make this less complicated, that he won’t ever share your feelings for him 
In that case, the maddening crush still has some value, if he’s a great guy.
I had a crush on this guy who liked ballet-
So I watched ballet on tv and listened to classical music because I knew he liked it.
Nothing ever came from that crush, but I have an appreciation for ballet now, and that’s worth something.
There was another guy I had a crush, and I learned Spanish because of his influence. Some Spanish, anyway. that too, was useful later on.
And i learned to play the guitar because i hung out with this guy I had a crush on and he played it all the time- I asked him to teach me when I hung out with him.
I read A Midsummer Night’s Dream because I knew that ballet boy liked it- I am so glad I did now.
I am just trying to say that unrequited love has value if you look at it a certain way. If you are going to make the object of your affection a hobby, put it to best use.
I don’t think these guys ever knew what wonderful gifts they gave me.
Um, I was thinking you would slide it under his door or something. And then you would run real fast so he wouldn’t see you when he opened the door to see who slid those awful cat photographs under the door.
What a wonderful post, Turpentine! [sappiness alert] Just knowing him really is a gift. [/sappiness alert] I really need to start spending less time at Hallmark… I do have a friendship with him (not terribly close or anything, but still), so I won’t be doing anything monumentally stupid to jeopardize that (such as, let’s say, declaring my undying love for him and tattooing his name across my forehead). That said…
Where would one obtain such cat photographs, Snooooopy?
I’m going to have to start figuring out where I can get twenty bucks for my TwistofFate Worship Kit. (I knew I should have signed up for the SDMB Secret Santa! )
First, get a cat. Take a picture of it. Second, get a screwdriver. Take a picture of it, too. Finally, take a picture of the “other woman.” Scan all of these photos into a computer equipped with Photoshop. Using the magic of Photoshop, you can make it appear that she intends to do something hideous to the cat with the screwdriver.
You may substitute some other sharp object for the screwdriver as is necessary to realize your artistic vision.
Happy picture-taking!
I’m rather drunk, and this is a total hijack, but this sounds like a wonderful idea. I think I’ll try it sometime. It probably won’t work, but I was just reintroduced to euphoria in a bottle, and I’ll just set that aside as plan B.
Well, I suppose I could just seduce them all, but if loverboy’s only interested in platonic friendship, it’s not going to do you much good.
You’re right. Silly spooje and his rational thinking.
Once again, I say you should transfer your affections to devastatingly handsome bald man.
Bald is beautiful, baby!
Serendipidty, in all seriousness, talk to the boy. Tell him he floats your boat and you’d like to make the beast with the two backs.
Then, you’ll know!
I got a feeling he may secretly dig you!
spooje, darling, I’m giving you new and unused affection. {{spooje}}
In all seriousness, though, I don’t think I could bring myself to admit my crush to him, let alone utter the phrase “beast with two backs.” I mean, he’s involved with someone, and I’m pretty sure he won’t magically decide that I’m somehow more desirable. Even if he weren’t seeing anyone, what will telling him accomplish, besides making things awkward between us? You’re terribly sweet to say…
but I highly doubt it. I’m not the dig-able type.
Serendipity, dear, you need to write bad poetry. Or at least journal entries exploring your longing . . .
And crushes are good things, for reasons besides what Zoggie said. I know several people who are perfectly happy being single, but without having someone to crush on, are borderline psychopaths. Me, I’m just happier having someone to like.
But I’m with tater - total imersion, if you really want to get rid of him.
And in the meantime . . . work on convincing yourself that you’re the dig-able type. It can be hard, I know, and it’s something I have issues with, too, but you are. Really.
My other solution is for you to flirt, lots, with random people. I’m not entirely sure why it works, but it does.
And this sort of thing doesn’t go away when you’re 20. Sorry.
[I’m sure there’s a better way to put this post in order. Shuffle at will.]
While I was outside last night with my roommate trying to cheer her up, we saw The Crush and somehow got invited over to his dorm to hang out with him and some of his friends. Yay! It was too much fun, and I’m riding high on all of those fluttery butterfly feelings. When I got home last night/this morning, I called up my best friend (“Hello?” “Hey, it’s me. What’s up?” “I’ve got a hot Englishman passed out on my bed. What about you?” “Well, nothing to compete with that, but I did see you-know-who.”) and decided just to enjoy the giddiness, in spite of the fact that nothing will come of it. It’s sort of like Christmas, I guess, when you get so hyped up by the anticipation that the actual event can’t even compare. I don’t know. I’m feeling a little blissful, though, and wanted to share.