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The date is powerfully bad. He’s so weenily deferential, over-groomed in his little blazer with a graphic tee and matching Vans and raw selvedge denim. He has that sort of lenticular baldness where you can see the thinning patches only at an angle. Unlike most guys, he does ask her questions about …

So, she went too far: fine. All she cares about is how she can make him own his share of the blame. Confront him with her grievances? No, that’d look petulant and reactive. Could she respond with a simple “lol”? Being glib would give him an excuse to sever their friendship with equally low effort…

We’ve known each other a long time and if it’s one thing I know, it’s that you always manage to convince yourself that when you act out, you’re only hurting yourself, or are justified in hurting others as long as you suffer too. I do not think it is unfair to say you have a habit of passively conse…

At home, legs trembling full of acid, grimacing, he peels off his bloody broken half toenail. The wound looks like a cut pomegranate and he dabs it with alcohol, adding injury to injury, the pain piercing an opening inside him through which more tearful laughter escapes. He does feel somewhat guilt…

“Who knows! Every woman’s different and things are always changing. Listen, I’m not sure what you’re trying to get out of me here. Again: I’m not a woman.”

Sure, he’s aware of that, he replies, but it’s important to him, especially as a cisgender heterosexual white man, to avoid placing the burd…