Tammertron

The thing about writing about crushes is that you start to see crushes everywhere. In line at Kinko’s, outside the Jamba Juice, driving the UPS truck with tanned, sculpted calves. Crushes are a well of good feeling that never runs dry. You can’t sell out of them; there is an endless supply. How convenient, how lovely for something so nice to be so easy, so free. Because love is hard—it takes commitment, and vulnerability, and honesty, and patience—but crushes are perfect, fleeting, like fall leaves that scatter around your feet, to be admired and, just as quickly, abandoned.