…I just think there was some element of burying some stuff so that you can get on with your job and your life. I realized then that I was looking for stories that were behind the act, and I needed to find that, but I realized very quickly how difficult it was going to be. I didn’t want people who were wanting to talk, in a sense.

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I learned that comprehending someone’s heartache is, unfortunately, very often the only way to stop condemning them…I learned that most of us wouldn’t necessarily do certain things over again—like not partake in a moment of passion—even if we know how long it might stay with us/hurt us.

Men can frighten us, other women can frighten us, and sometimes we worry so much about what frightens us that we wait to have an orgasm until we are alone. We pretend to want things we don’t want so nobody can see us not getting what we need.