His name was George. I never met him, nor do I have the slightest idea as to how or when he died.
The sisters did their part in reaffirming the mingling sense of reverence and fear the men of my family have always felt toward women, while laying deep the seeds of a crippling, life-long guilt. In other words, a proper Catholic education.
What’s that you feel? Are those real tears running down your cheek? They immediately harden to ice in the bitter New York winter. You decide to leave them there.
Doing crazy things are different from doing bad things.
Women, generally, are communicative creatures. For the most part, we thrive on sharing and outpourings. And yeah, if we have a boyfriend, we’re going to talk about him.