This is not a breakup book about finding yourself. This is not a breakup book about saying thank you to the person who hurt you.
I came home, a dog with a ducked head crying, hugging my mom in the arrivals terminal of the airport, hoping that maybe her hug would fill the lover shaped hole in my body. It didn’t, but she tried.
Remember that admitting she’s been cheated on is ridiculously humiliating. Be gentle.
Our refusal to hold men accountable for cheating seems like an offshoot of our tendency to admonish women for being sexual—to slut shame them for the very same behavior that earns men “player” status.
The absence of a reason has been eating at me relentlessly.
Having an affair only results when one or both partners don’t realize that the intense “butterflies in your stomach” feeling that they feel initially won’t last forever.
When she sings our favorite song, the melody in her voice will remind you of me. This is how you will miss me.
“I’ve never been sorrier in my life”
eyes chasing the ceiling fan.
It doesn’t feel wrong because physically, no boundaries have been crossed. His girlfriend couldn’t possibly be mad. He wasn’t “cheating” I’d say to myself.
Real women share the dirty details of their ‘gotcha’ stories.