Because there are only so many times you can get rejected before you start to realize that it isn’t the end of the world, regardless of how it might feel in the moment.
I should start, I guess, by explaining why I address you as one person, although you are objectively many: It’s because you often feel exactly the same to me. When I would frantically compare notes with girlfriends over several glasses of wine, the similarities were uncanny. If this had been a crime, and we’d been detectives looking for a suspect who fit the description, there could have been no other assumption. Even in my own life, you all blur into one. The boy in fourth grade who pushed me down by the swing set and who, despite the well-intended insistence of my teacher, did not do it because he liked me — he is the same as the boy when I was 18 who called me at night but would never introduce me to his friends.
Your validation — or, rather, its absence — used to mean so…
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