I’ve watched YouTube videos on how to install new faucets, and Jasper never tells me I can’t or I shouldn’t or that it’s something a man should do. No one does. Instead, he walks in, gives the house a little smirk with his hands slung casually in his pockets and tells me how fabulous it looks. What a great job I’ve done. How capable I am. He makes me believe in myself. Then he bosses me around in bed—but I like that part. The rest of it makes me realize how powerless I’ve been trained to be my entire life. It stirs an unfamiliar rage inside of me, one that keeps me from answering any of my
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