She looks so much the portrait of a girl in love. A girl, loved. And I smile as I turn the pages. Smile as if maybe that’s what I want too. Smile before I remember I can never have that. Before a subtle voice reminds me. YOU can never have that.

I challenge him, briefly.

Ask him, why not? And stick my chin out like a child.

You know why, he says and I am ashamed. Feel his reasons too tender to touch. To list here.

But he goes on anyways, punishing me for my defiance.

Because you are so different when you’re in love. So far from what you need to be to get anywhere. To become the woman you want to become. Or even to be happy. Because to love, to be loved, means you are wholly yourself with that Other. Means you are accepted for that, by them. And you know as well as I that nobody will accept you as you are. As you are this night – stripped down. Bare faced. Bare bodied. Hungry and human and so exposed.