Crepes and I have kind of a tense relationship. Back in junior year of high school, when I was young and inexperienced, I started “dating” a guy named Mike. I use quotes because I was 15, painfully awkward, and completely out of touch with my girly feelings — I had no idea how to deal with myself, much less a boyfriend. On my 16th birthday, Mike surprised me with a morning picnic behind the school. He had bought me a dozen red roses, laid out a blanket on the grass, and prepared hand-made crepes with whipped cream and strawberries. I was completely blown away. But rather than gushing my thanks and sharing a happy, hormone-charged first kiss with my very sweet boyfriend, I completely...
