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See, that’s the thing I hate the most about adulting: at some point, one has to start doing it.
But I know I’m not imagining that his most egregious behavior is always directed at me (“I wonder why,” I muse to myself, stroking my woman-in-STEM chin).
“I can’t believe you commented ‘delete your account.’ It’s cyberbullying, Liam.”
And when he spins me around the room, one single, perfect whirl of pure happiness, that’s when I realize it. How incredibly, utterly gone for this man I am.