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I arrive in Austin on a Tuesday, and honestly, I’m disappointed by the lack of cowboy hats. It’s my first time in Texas, and I had visions of streets lined with nothing but barbecue joints and stores that sold boots and whatever else you need to ride a horse. Saddles? I don’t know. I know nothing about horses. I’ve never even done that touristy L.A. thing up in the hills where you can ride a horse to a Mexican restaurant, load up on margaritas, and then ride back. Always seemed like a bad idea to me. The Austin airport is extremely Austin. I can tell this immediately, even though it’s my first
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Dad’s so good at that Texas thing where you act polite to people’s face and then talk shit behind their back.
Texans are nothing if not polite (to your face).
Men don’t protect us, not really. They only protect themselves, or each other. The only thing men ever protected me from was happiness.” “Oh shit,”
people hate that quality in a young woman, don’t they? They don’t know what to do with a girl who isn’t looking for their approval. They feel like they have to bring her down a peg.
“Better to be interesting than likable, in my opinion.”
People don’t believe women who fight back. When a man lashes out, people say he’s lost control of his temper or made a terrible mistake. When a woman does it, she’s a psychopath. Matt steps forward suddenly, drawing me back to the present. He pushes me up against the car. The length of his body presses against mine, and then
Large men in cowboy hats gawk openly at me. An ancient country song plays softly over the speakers. It’s peak Texas in here.
“Like I told you, better to be interesting than likable.”
People are going to believe whatever I say. Your word isn’t enough.” “The truth doesn’t matter.” Savvy’s words sound gentle this time. Less angry. I shift my attention back to Ben. “The truth is whatever you say it is.”
Well, not strange, exactly. Typical. Men always believe each other.
