\n<\/p>\n
After that, it was the man who would become my husband. We had known each other since I was 18. We married when I was 22. I did what I was supposed to. I gave it all. I moved for him, gave up career aspirations for him, waited for the time when it would be my turn. I cooked and decorated and worked small jobs and had children. While my friends made drunken mistakes on floor mattresses, I picked out throw pillows and made stews from the Joy of Cooking<\/em>. I didn\u2019t want what they had. I truly didn\u2019t. I was content with my little life, content with the promise of more, later, eventually. But \u201cmore\u201d never happened.<\/p>\n So when at 35 I found myself completely unmoored, I decided to just fuck up. I plunged into a world of canceled men, dating apps, dick pics\u2014the bad men, who were in fact bad, the good men who tried so hard to prove they were<\/em> good, except what? Put on a condom, you say? In letting go of my marriage, I let go of everything I had known and understood about sex and relationships and men. And I did it as all the women on earth had turned into open wounds.<\/p>\n