I made the same choice and I’m probably going to die alone because i can no longer bear the thought of someone else’s morning breath, or snoring, or someone getting jealous over bullshit, or stroking someone’s somehow both underdeveloped and overblown ego. I have lovely male friends I would not date, but by the time my son graduates I’ll be 52, I think? Or 51. Either way, set in my ways. Maybe I’ll join a cult. Or live in a commune. Just so the cats don’t eat my face before anyone even notices I’m missing.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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