“I don’t want to break up. I love you.” “You only say that,” Robby said then, his voice tinged with a certainty I’ll never forget, “because you don’t know what love is.”

I wish I could say that Glenn—built like a tank with a bald head freckled like somebody had sprinkled them from a shaker—was one of those bosses who seemed gruff but really had your best interest at heart. But Glenn mostly had Glenn’s best interest at heart.

You have to be willing to step in front of a bullet—and that’s no small choice, because some of these people are not exactly lovable—and getting shot hurts. It’s high stakes and high stress, and if you’re going to do it right, it has to be about something bigger than you.

If I’d been paying better attention, I might have noticed that Robby was less eager about everything than I was. But I was a little too desperate in that moment to think about anyone but myself.

That was the kind of insult that would haunt me to my grave. Unacceptable.

“You have three deal-breaker flaws.” The words echoed in my head as I braced for them. Three deal-breaker flaws. “One,” Robby said, “you work all the time.” Okay. He also worked all the time. But fine. “Two,” Robby went on, “you’re not fun, you know? You’re so serious every minute.” Um. Holy shit. How do you argue with that? “And three,” Robby said

“Don’t even think about coming to work,” he’d said. “Just stay home and grieve.” Stay home? And grieve? No way was I doing that.

“I can’t stop you,” he said, “and I’m not going to try. But I’ll tell you this right now. There’ll be no ‘leaving the company’ when this crashes and burns. You’ll get no pity from me, and you won’t get a letter of recommendation, either. If you apply somewhere else, I’ll torpedo you with the worst reference in the history of time. You’re mine. I

A MONTH LATER, I was still enraged about it. A bad kisser? A bad kisser? I mean, “workaholic”? Fine. There’s no shame in being fantastic at your job. “Not fun”? Whatever. Fun was overrated. But a “bad kisser”?