The Love Haters

by Katherine Center

Maybe I’d been too gullible. Watched too many Disney movies. Imprinted on too many nineties rom-coms.

there was a certain comfort in my vastly oversimplified thinking. It reduced all the chaos of the world into one simple metric that—in theory, at least—I could control. As long as I stayed under a thousand calories a day, I was safe. Nothing bad could happen to me.

I’m not excusing her. But intentions don’t not matter.

“I’m saying maybe an all-body, no-soul fling with a hero robot might help you toughen up a little.”

That face of his was beautiful. I felt positively overtaken by the sight of it. I wanted to buy it, and own it, and take it home.

a part of my body that had been, shall we say, devoid of gentleman callers for far too long.

But this information was objectively fascinating. I waited for Hutch to become fascinated. But he refused.

What on earth must it be like to just live in your body so comfortably and enjoy it like that?

“No one’s born fearless,” Rue said. “You have to earn it.”

“It doesn’t matter what anybody thinks if you’re having fun. And all the fun is in color.”

That’s the thing about having a body. You only get one, and you’re trapped in it from beginning to end.

That longing to be looked at lovingly? That longing to be lovable … that’s really also so much about wanting to be valued, and seen, and connected, and safe, and just deeply, fundamentally okay? Maybe we didn’t have to outsource that.

She loved all of her everything because it was hers.