In fourth grade, one of my best friends was a girl named Thea. I didn’t have consciously romantic feelings for her, but when she began to hold hands with a new kid at school named Jeremy, I purposefully fell down during a game of touch football at recess, and pretended to have twisted my ankle so I’d have a public reason to cry.
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It’s like Michael Kimball micro-ized and minus the postcard.
Is it odd that my first experience of romantic love was heartbreak?
no.
I don’t mean that it ended with heartbreak, but that it began that way.
Pain all the way through, I guess.
This is pretty great all around. I mean, I’ve been working to revive the mullet, but you have to live it.
This is Shya as a young lesbian.
I may have been a young lesbian, but I had an old soul.
Don’t let ’em get you down, Shya. I too had a mullet when I was a kid.
A clipping from the back of that neck could cure rare diseases!
That mullet was the seat of my power. And now it’s gone. All gone.
Was Thea your Delilah?