The things I liked to do, my reluctance to share, my aversion to affection—none of those things were relationship-friendly. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. I loved people. I truly did. But the way I loved was different than most. And, if I was being honest, not all that compatible. I didn’t need to get love in order to give love. I never had. I preferred my affections to be anonymous. Independent. Not because I didn’t care, but because I cared differently. I knew it better than anyone: The most palatable version of me was one seen from a distance.
