In the past, when I asked my friends about their faults, they said things that didn’t count: They got frustrated sometimes or worked too much. These conversations inevitably ended with me saying, “Those aren’t bad enough,” and storming away. They didn’t say what I wanted to hear. That deep down, they weren’t sure if they were likable. That they were so irresponsible, they couldn’t imagine being mothers. They didn’t say they craved attention but had trouble giving it to others. They didn’t say how cruel they could be. These were surely the flaws he had seen in me.
