How To Fail at Flirting

by Denise Williams

help all kids realize they were smart.

I’d let those four walls become my whole world, and I didn’t know who I would be without them.

“You’re a badass, hot-as-hell, fucking brilliant doctor, not some insecure high school girl. Man up!” “Do you know how rife with toxic masculinity the phrase man up is?” I challenged, mirroring her pose. “It implies that to be courageous is to be a man.” “Do you know how annoying it is when you change the subject?” Her tone was smug. “I’m just saying, we don’t need to insert men into every aspect of our language.” “Okay, ovary up. Fallopian forward. Vulva with a vengeance.”

Lord, give me the confidence of an old, rich white man.

The last thing I could handle was pity on his face or confusion about why I’d stayed with Davis so long. I didn’t know the answers. I’d convinced myself it wasn’t abuse. I was educated, and I thought I knew better, so what was happening was something else. I’d thought it would get better, and when it didn’t, it was

too late. I’d started to believe his lies, that I needed him. By the time I stopped believing the lies, I believed the threats.

I didn’t need to fake my confidence anymore. The anger at his condescending tone was a prod pushing me forward. I wasn’t scared; I was pissed.

Stand up for myself. Check.

“Sometimes things that seem dumb, stupid, even dangerous at the time—hell, things that most certainly are dumb, stupid, and dangerous—sometimes they work out. And sometimes those bad decisions? They end up being the most important decisions we ever made. Especially when you have a good head on your shoulders to begin with.”

I wasn’t the same person I’d been three years ago. I’d rediscovered my own strength, and I deserved better than this. I don’t have to fold. I can fight and I can save myself.