It was the same night I gave myself to him completely, knowing that I would belong to him for as long as he wanted to keep me. And, as it turned out, even longer than that.

Sorrow comes with so many defense mechanisms. You have your shock, your denial, your getting wasted, your cracking jokes, and your religion. You also have the old standby catchall—the blind belief in fate, the whole "things happening for a reason" drill.

ONE MORE CHNCE. Words that my mother heard, more than once. Words that women debate. Whether you CAN forgive and whether you SHOULD trust. I think of all the judgment from society, friends, and family, the overwhelming consensus seeming to be that you should not grant someone who betrayed you a second chance. That you should do everything you can to keep the knife out of your back, and to protect your heart and pride. Cowards give second chances. Fools give second chances. And I am no coward, no fool.

In my stories, I think, as I've gotten older, the characters have become stronger and more independent, and more capable of making unconventional decisions.

How different this moment feels, for so many reasons. I tell myself that no two loves are identical - but that I don't have to compare anymore.

But I have learned that you can't just create your own timetable and will it to come true.

Some of my very closest friends are my guy friends, going back to the third grade, so I believe in the integrity of the male-female friendship.