Exciting Times

by Naoise Dolan

I’d been sad in Dublin, decided it was Dublin’s fault, and thought Hong Kong would help.

I cried about this no more than any other person would.

I wanted a power imbalance, and I wanted it to benefit me.

I’d spend a great deal of time with my hand near his belt buckle and see if he nudged me down to touch him or up to undo it. Julian sometimes did one and sometimes the other, so never let anyone tell you men are not complex.

Some mornings I didn’t leave the bed because then I’d have to brush my teeth, followed by a series of actions that amounted to living my life as the person I was.

The word “friend” did Herculean work in terms of describing me and Julian.

you still put more time and energy into showing you don’t love me than anyone has ever put into showing me they do.

“I lie to everyone about everything” would probably not satisfy her as an answer.

“it’s disingenuous to take ‘Please don’t live with some guy you used to fuck’ as ‘Please cut off everyone in your life.’”

“If you really think there’s nothing intrinsically wrong with fucking multiple people—and you’re right, there isn’t—then why did you lie to me?”

“I’m breaking up with you if you don’t, but for that to count as a threat, it would have to be something you’re afraid of.”

We mutually agreed, through certain expressions, to pretend I wasn’t about to cry. I thought that was generous of us.