Good Material

by Dolly Alderton

how I feel, but it’s not even interesting to me any more. And I don’t know how to choose the right words to correctly represent all the thoughts and the feelings that are piling up inside me. Women think we don’t want to talk to them about our emotions because we’re embarrassed of being vulnerable. It’s more that we’re embarrassed of seeming stupid. Every time I hear Jane and Jen or Mum and one of her friends talk about something emotional, it’s like listening to an orchestra perform. Often with no warm-up, they launch effortlessly into the chosen symphony of feelings for the day. And when I offer my thoughts I know I’m ruining it—hooting along tunelessly like a grade-one recorder player.

Here’s something I’ve learnt about telling a story from the time I’ve spent on stage: the details are what’s important. The things that shock or entertain or horrify aren’t the facts of what happened, they are the specifics of how they happened.

the person who is in charge in a relationship is the one who loves the least.

“Getting dumped is never really about getting dumped.” “What is it about, then?” I ask. “It’s about every rejection you’ve ever experienced in your entire life.

The whole time, I felt like we were two couples rather than four people, and I missed feeling like a singular entity with my friends. I felt like I was losing myself.