I should be used to it. Used to them forgetting about me, taking me for granted, ignoring me. I had a whole year of that at Snoop. A year of people going out for drinks after work and not inviting me. Twelve months of “Oh, Liz, would you reserve a table for four at Mirabelle?” and knowing that that four didn’t include me. One full year of invisibility. And I was fine with that—more than fine, actually. I was quite comfortable.
