Though I imagine in your case, trying not to fall just made you fall harder.

Back in middle school, Catherine and I had gone through this stage where all we would read were fantasy books. We'd consume them like M&M's, by the fistful, J.R.R. Tolkien and Terry Brooks and Susan Cooper and Lloyd Alexander. Susan Boone looked, to me, like the queen of the elves (there's almost always an elf queen in fantasy books). I mean, she was shorter than me and had on a strange lineny outfit in pale blues and greens.

You know what you sound like? A jealous girl friend. And how are things on Planet You Wish?

She hadn't slain the dragon. Not at all. She hoped no one ever would.

But I had loved him. A part of me still did. Maybe more than a part of me, because I'm a complete moron.

There are nice, funny, totally good-looking guys out there. You just have to know where to look…and apparently, where NOT to look.

Did you see him? I know the photo was grainy, but he looks like one of those death metal goth heads, or whatever they’re called. All dressed in black with long hair I took umbrage at my mother describing my boyfriend this way. John was the Lord of the Underworld. How else was he supposed to dress?