How to Fall in Love with Anyone: A Memoir in Essays

by Mandy Len Catron

I did not know the story about the guy who wants to sleep with you but not have sex, the tale of the guy who makes you cookies and gives you back rubs, offering elusive suggestions of romance but no confirmation. My desire to understand this story kept me coming back to Kevin.

assumed that no one ever said what they really wanted in love, or what they really meant. I thought love was supposed to be confusing and complicated—at least while you were young.

The more anxiety I felt about my relationship with Kevin, the surer I became that what I felt was, in fact, real love.

At least we aren’t indifferent to each other, I would tell myself, as if drama and indifference were the only two options.)

something about how intense feelings do not absolve us of our obligation to be honest and kind. Or something about how I was allowed to demand more from love—I didn’t have to be satisfied with a series of inconsistent romantic gestures.

it was difficult to look toward the future and not see him there.

Maybe I accepted less than what I wanted—from Kevin and from love—because he offered enough to tell a good story. And for a few years, having a good love story felt a lot like having good love.

It never occurred to me that I could be likable because of my own interests, not in spite of them.

at the time I believed—because dozens of Cinderella stories had told me so—that being good was enough, and that someone somewhere would simply understand my shyness without me ever having to explain it, and they would love me for it.