The smile he gave her was mainstream, pop, radio-friendly. The smile he’d given me was the single released after an artist had established themselves, found their voice, could speak directly to their target audience. The smile he’d given me had more R&B to it.

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.

“I also know how my favorite movies make me feel. They pull me in and pull me out, I am totally in their world, but they also make me look in. I watch them and feel home, I watch them and feel like I can never know enough, I watch them over and over, always ready to discover the universe they create.

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,

His body wasn’t much of a conversationalist, didn’t ask mine what her interests were, her favorite song, which spot was the softest.

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

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.

Romance was a waste of time, a form of manipulation utilized by boys who didn’t wash their bedsheets regularly. It existed, sure, but I wasn’t surrounded by anyone I believed engaged in it properly, with respect for the object of affection, rather than a thirst to claim—a triumph of acquisition, rather than a triumph of winning affection.

“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.