Maybe TMI: This Is Why I Don’t Have a Nice Boyfriend
Sometimes you’re out strolling around Capitol Hill, and you meet a boy, and he buys you drinks, and you take him home only to discover a deep well of depravity beneath the mild-mannered facade of a software engineer.
I don’t know about other girls, but when this happens to me, I like it.
Sometimes a boy like this grabs a fistful of your hair and growls, “You’re either going to end up crazy or in love.” And you know that this is true, and that more than likely you’ll end up both of those things, but you don’t care because who says things like that anyway? Except maybe a character in a novel by one of the Bronte sisters, if they had been writing in our century.
But then, in the cooler light of Sunday morning, you think about the filmmaker and the writer, and you tell yourself you cannot go through all of that again. So you try to be an emotionally healthy grownup, and you tell the boy that you can’t go to all the deep, dark places he wants to take you. You think this will be the end of it. But then he says, “Don’t you owe it to yourself to explore this?”
Don’t you owe it to yourself? He actually says those words, and you know he’s right. You tell him you need time to think, but who are you kidding?