When I was in elementary school, everybody in a class exchanged Valentine’s Day cards at school. Is it still that way? We each decorated a shoebox with our name on it. We cut a slit in the top for others to drop cards through. The displays were up for several days — and everybody was required to give a card to everybody else.
When I was in the fifth grade, I had a crush on a beautiful blue-eyed blonde girl named Wendy. She was my ideal girl when I was about 11 years old. I was terrified of anybody realizing this, though, because then she might know — and that seemed scary. I guess it was “puppy love” rejection I feared.
Since classes routinely gave cards to everyone, there were large packs of small, cheap cards that stores sold. I bought a pack of those generic cards — but I also bought one very special card, much nicer than the others, just for Wendy.
Surely, I thought, nobody will notice. Nobody will figure it out. My secret would be safe.
But little girls who compared the cards they received in our class did notice. And they talked among themselves. Before I knew it, everybody was whispering that I “liked Wendy.”

Epiphany: Was it so bad that I used to work toward perfection?
As world descends into madness, back away and guard your heart
Get over it: There’s no media conspiracy against your beliefs
When voters insist on lies, politicians follow their incentives and lie
My need to make others perfect reflects my fear I’m not in control
Coming soon: Meet John Crispin, Demopublican for U.S. president
Trivial objects have power to be containers for strong emotions
Confessing my ego’s old desires reveals hidden fears of my past