You Have To Shrink Yourself To Fit

He Gives Me A Kiss That Barely Touches My Lips – It Means Nothing Or Everything. After He’s Gone, I Think, Happy Birthday To Me. Jack Says, ‘that Was The Guy?’ ‘that Was Him.’ Jake Shakes His Head. ‘what?’ ‘he’s Not For You,’ He Says. I Say, ‘how Do You Know?’ But What I Mean Is, How Do You Know? ‘he’s Like Ashley Wilkes,’ He Says. ‘any One Of These Guys Is Rhett-ier Than He Is.’ Again, I Ask My Benignly Inflected, ‘how Do You Know?’ ‘how Do I Know?’ He Says, Tackling Me Into A Bear Hug. ‘how Do I Know? I Know, That’s How I Know.

I Felt I Couldn't Lose Anything Else, But Just Then I Realized I Already Had: I'd Lost The Hope That I Would Ever Be Loved In Just That Way Again.

The Writing Is Clean. I Really Wouldn't Have Changed A Word. Most Of It Is True, Too, Except That The Hero Quits Drinking And The Girl Grows Up. On The Last Page, The Couple Gets Married, Which Is A Nice Way For A Love Story To End.

It Scares Me. But Then I Get This Big Feeling, Simple But Exalted: He's Like Me, Just With Different Details.

Basically, All Anyone Has To Do Is Ask Me For Fun Details Or Tell Me To Be Creative, And My Mind Turns To Mud. I Am Instantly The Most Boring Person You've Ever Met.