I don't know a lot about relationships or sex, but I know a lot about love. This is what I talk about when I talk about love, anyway.

When the first Harry Potter movie came out, I fell in love with Daniel Radcliffe. It was a very specific moment: my dad was driving me to school, and I was reading a magazine with an article about the upcoming release. We were on Irving Park, driving past Sheridan, and I remember tracing the blown-up face of the actor, airbrushed skin pale underneath my fingertips. I met the wide, solemn blue-green eyes, and knew my feelings then.

At this time in my life, love meant writing both of our names into my Harry Potter journal with a heart around them, sometimes DR + NJ abbreviated, sometimes the ends of my entries signed proclaiming my love. Considering my diary w...

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