Crushing

by Genevieve Novak

Every rebound was a rebirth.

Where were the tax incentives for people who shed the weight of another half?

‘She’s a different dream girl for everyone she meets.’

‘My life is not Eat, Pray, Love.’ ‘Why not?’

‘Marnie. My love. Beautiful, stupid baby lady —’ ‘Hey,’ I said, offended. ‘This isn’t complicated. We’re at a bar. Your tits look great. Someone will talk to you, and when you have nothing to say, just look bored and do this.’

I’d been too quick to get swept away with the first person to give me attention. I was an addict in recovery, and every interaction with a man was inherently risky.

I had only just realised on the edge of my thirties that I had no idea who I was, what I liked, or what I wanted.

That’s the thing about fantasies. Reality ruins them.

It had always been so much more beautiful inside my head.