The First Bad Man

by Miranda July

Fear was for poor people. Maybe this was the happiest I’d ever been.

“I guess I’m ‘misogynist’ or whatever.” I’d never heard the word used like this, like an orientation.

my hips swaying in my crinkly ethnic skirt and turned her back, horrified.

If you were wise enough to know that this life would consist mostly of letting go of things you wanted, then why not get good at the letting go, rather than the trying to have?