My version of an Irish exit has an air of deception to it, because it includes my asking loudly, “Where’s the bathroom?” and making theatrical looking-around gestures like a lost foreign tourist. But then, instead of finding the bathroom, I sneakily grab my coat and leave.

In psychology (okay, Twilight) they teach you about the notion of imprinting, and I think it applies here. I reverse-imprinted with athleticism. Ours is the great non-love story of my life.

If you are going to ask your crush for their phone number, you are one of the small group of women I am so jealous of.

My mother is more of an adviser. I followed everything she did when I was younger, because I looked up to her so much.

I feel like I'm in the right profession.

I think women in general like men that don't give them the thing that we want. We want a chase.

I would be the first to admit that I have incredibly high, ambitious standards for my life and my career, and I've had those my entire life. It's something that was just instilled in me by my parents.