Saturday's Storyteller: Love Hurts
Love Hurts by Belinda Roddie It was the first time I had ever had a legit boyfriend. It was also the first time I had ever had a bromance. We met in my sophomore year of high school, which was a year of ponytails, bad poetry, and pubescent awkwardness. He was my creative writing teacher's TA: Doe-eyed, brown-haired, and usually stoned out of his gourd. His name was Chris, based off his middle name Christian, and he was the son of my former eighth grade physical science teacher - extra awkwardness. He told me he first started to like me after hearing my stories, which, looking back on it, makes me cringe so hard that I almost pull a muscle behind my left eye. He finally started chatting with me at a chili festival my high school hosted in order to support the victims of the tsunami in Sri Lanka, so our first real conversation happened over lukewarm beans, dry beef, and half-congealed cheddar cheese. Clearly, the stars were properly aligned on this day. After constantly sitt