I’d looked for sympathy after Pops died, but that was to get out of things, and to get the attention I wanted. Through high school, I’d mostly dropped that gambit because I quickly realized that the people whose attention I suddenly wanted most—girls—did not react how I’d hoped when I talked about my Pops. Which is to say, they did not find me attractive because of my trauma but rather odd, lonely, sad, and unfuckable.
