“What am I supposed to do? Wait for my future husband to appear on the fire escape outside my kitchen window? I want to stop, but what is that going to get me? I know it’s not cool to say it because I’m supposed to love my independence and not need anyone to complete my life—and don’t even get me started on my parents and their marriages—but I want to be married, I want to be settled, and I want to stop feeling like I’m living in the in-between. I want to stop looking for someone to love me.” When I was finished heaving my sob story into his lap, he met my eyes with a dark, even gaze and said,
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