She had once said that she believed the women's liberation movement of the sixties and seventies was actually a ploy by men to get women to do more.

She thought about him all the time - not so much about Doug the individual, but rather about the nature of love, and the shock of learning how quickly it could disappear.

The girls said she was too cynical about love, but how could you not be? On the surface, relations between men and women were all soft kisses and white gowns and hand-holding. But underneath they were a scary, complicated, ugly mess, just waiting to rise to the surface.

Fiction will always be my greatest love, with poetry close behind.

For whatever reason, various outlets and individuals are committed to making the world think that young girls don't talk or care about feminism anymore, that it's totally over. But it's not.

I admire the linear and decisive way a certain kind of man thinks, to my curlicue boundless overthinking.

There were so many ways to be twenty-six years old.