I had my very first real crush that I remember when I was in fourth grade, on the older brother of a friend, a person I had actually seen approximately once since I was 6—I didn’t know a single thing about him but I had these vague romantic ideas, probably based on the truly fucked up novels I was reading then, all taken directly from the “Adult” section of the library, like he was perfect in every way, funny, smart, thought I was amazing, wanted to kiss me, was being kept from kissing me because of no fault of his own, the usual stuff. It was my first experience with that most entertaining form of insanity: the hopeless crush. However, it certainly wasn’t my last.
Since I was 8, I’ve really honed my hopeless crushing skills. I’m way better at hopeless crushes than I am at actual…
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