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wonder if love can be ugly. If it can do the wrong thing. Bad things. I wonder if it can ever really die.
Men are all the same, Mom once told us, but it’s the ones who try the hardest to convince you that they’re good that you really have to watch out for. My mother was wrong about a lot, but not this. How many times have I witnessed a man declare he was outraged over some indiscretion that he himself was later found guilty of? How many proud gentlemen revealed to be wolves?
