I have a secret crush, a secret shame. A secret so horrifying, so soul-shrinking, that even one as shameless as me can barely put it into pixels.
I have a crush on…no, I can’t say it.
It’s not his beliefs, should rarefied science ever detect any. It’s not his thoughts, which seem to be quite clever, if misguided and destructive. It’s not his actions, for which the record speaks for itself.
And god knows it’s not for his unearthly beauty.
I’m off to self-medicate with nonfiction and Mount Gay Rum. Wish me luck.