Having a high school crush hurts like the dickens There are certain lessons that can’t be taught. There’s no crash course in romantics that won’t end without some internal injury. I’m, by far, no Casanova, but I’ve picked up a thing or two here and there. One of the lessons that is constantly being beaten into me is that some courtships are unjust and criminal; not everyone is worth the effort.
I learned to lie when I was five-years-old. It was all circumstance. I’m not the person who designed a fire alarm in a clear plastic cover that so elegantly displayed the switch and had “LIFT HERE” written in large lovely letters (I had just learned to read). It wasn’t my fault; how was I supposed to know that pulling the cover would trigger an alarm? I wouldn’t have even been in the department store if my parents hadn’t taken us to a see disaster-horror flick.