Melissa Broder

Worse yet, his wife had just given birth to twin daughters and he now identified as a “feminist.” Ofer was acquiring a perfunctory knowledge of social justice, as dictated by thinkpieces on diversity, inclusion, and equal pay in the Hollywood Reporter.

the question that you might want to ask yourself, isn’t so much what is love,” she said. “But is it really love I’m looking for?”

How dare he not give a fuck? What a luxury, the luxury of a man.

I’d heard it said that when you’re feeling good is sometimes when you’re the most suicidal. Maybe it’s after you decide that you’re going to do it that you suddenly seem happier

To want what you had—now, that was an art, a gift maybe.

You never think, in your fantasies, that the object of the fantasy can be hurt.

Why were some sadnesses so much more permissible than others?

We kissed quickly and then I watched him swim off. I wondered if I had been too engaged in the kiss, too desperate and needy, falling down a hole. Maybe he could sense my addictive tendencies coming off of me like bad perfume. Maybe he was just sexually attracted to me? It was hard to say, but I assumed I had done something wrong, because, well, I always did.

?
No, I needed him and maybe it was okay to need him. This is how love was spiritual, when it felt like this: unity with each other, the self, and all. And if this wasn’t love, then

The more you went for the ephemeral light, the more the void opened on the other side