He was good. And not just a One Size Fits All good, but good enough to match me. He was feeling me out, taking the lead gently when it was clear I was ceding power.

We’d dated for years and she was all I knew. I thought that was what romance was. You’re attracted to someone and you just power through the fact that sometimes you genuinely feel like they’re a stranger to you. Like they don’t really know who you are. I thought distance was normal. That’s what I saw with my parents and I had no reason to think it

There’s some, uh, friendship trauma there. I think I was worried that you guys wouldn’t like me if I was all of me you know? Like I would let you down or something.”

If a guy like you doesn’t think I’m a bitch that means I’m fucking up somewhere.”

“Media is about staying true to your voice, of course, but it’s also about interacting with the people you’re communicating with. It’s not about talking at, it’s talking to, with.

Honestly, why do so many guys mistake vigor for technique? Like, okay, you want me, this much is clear and, frankly, understandable, but what are you going to do with it? Where is the finesse, hon? The clear understanding that you are handling a masterpiece?! You’ve got this far. Appreciate it.

Their understanding and relative liberalness gave me the freedom to opt for a degree I’d enjoy rather than one that would set their mind at ease. Quite shortsighted of them to value my happiness.

I bit deep into his words and waited for my teeth to sink into their counterfeit charm, concocted to get something from me, but all I could taste was something rich and warm and smooth,

My heartbeat was drumming a frenetic, syncopated rhythm on internal djembes that got me thinking that both our ancestors were being summoned to approve of whatever the fuck was going on here.