Columns – Anything but a Love Story
There is no merit in trying to understand what other people want from you as a woman. The only thing worth doing, is to try figure out what it means to be a woman yourself. And one thing's for sure. There's nothing more cliched than a woman in love.
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Anything but a Love Story
A tequila tea-party
I peered into Matt’s cupboard to see if he had anything reasonably comfortable for me to borrow. Tomorrow was the first day of registration and I had failed to think ahead when I ran out of the house in the morning.
Anything but a Love Story
Tequila and Comfort
I hate anxiety.
I sat outside Matt’s block of flats in my car, briefly drummed my fingers against the steering wheel and then did a little square breathing.
Anything but a Love Story
Humiliation
I hate cappuccinos. I’m sitting in a coffee shop, it’s boiling outside, I’m still wearing my slippers from this morning and I’m drinking a cappuccino. Why? Because I can’t think straight! I’ve been sitting here for two hours trying to think of a way to overcome the physical humiliation I had to endure this morning.
Anything but a Love Story
My “official” boyfriend
Instead of four heads at the table – my mother, sister, niece and nephew – there were five.
I groaned audibly. Jeffrey.
Maman had clearly decided it was appropriate to invite Jeffrey for brunch. Who is Jeffrey, I hear you ask? Good question. Jeffrey is my “official” boyfriend. Well, at least that’s what he thought he was. And more to the calamitous point, that’s what my mother thought he was.
Anything but a Love Story
I hate Sunday mornings
I hate Sunday mornings. I’m well aware of the fact that Sunday mornings and I do not get on at all. In fact, we haven’t been on speaking terms since I was about thirteen years old. Goddamn Sunday mornings, I say, existing so smugly at the end of the week, not doing anything for you at all, except reminding you that another shitty Monday morning was on its way.
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