Confessions on the 7:45

People didn’t fall in love with other people. They fell in love with how other people made them feel about themselves. And so, it was easy to get someone to love you—if you knew how they wanted to feel.

When we narrate our experience, we take control of it. And in controlling the story of our past, we can create a better future.

I mean—are some men just flawed by nature? Or do we enable their bad behavior, make it worse in a way because we hide it, and don’t demand better from them?

All women are mysteries.” “Only men think that,” said Pearl. “Largely because they’re not paying attention.

Nobody told you that wen you became a parent, you became a child again; it was early bedtimes and grilled cheese sandwiches for all. Every date night was a negotiation, every invitation that you actually had the desire or energy to accept became a strategic maneuver that may or may not work out after all.

There was no undoing the bad without losing the good. That was the trick of it all.

But mainly, people were so wrapped up in their own inner hurricane that they never saw anything outside the storm of themselves.

And that’s all life was—a series of choices and their consequences.

He didn’t respect or even understand that other people had boundaries and only bullies pushed through them.

If she was honest with herself, the challenge of Graham excited her at first. She amped up her fitness routine, wore the sexiest underwear she could find. She made him chase. Blocked his calls sometimes, even stood him up once. Once upon a time, she’d been the woman sending dirty texts. His excitement excited her. That’s why she thought she’d left Will for Graham. Because Graham excited her. Because life with him, what it would be, could be, seemed like a mystery, an adventure.

This is your home,” her mother said. “Wherever I am, that’s where you belong.

Didn’t he know that she was playing him? The funny thing was that they almost never, ever did. And even after they figured it out, they doubted themselves. Wanted to believe they were wrong. Even when there was no denying that they’d been had, you could almost always go back for a second helping.

There was stardust in her bones.

Whatever hard consequences might follow. Problems didn’t just go away. You had to face them down and solve them. Every grown-up knew that.

In the quiet, she wondered how much of her marriage—of any marriage—was built on a foundation of pretty stories, a narrative that you stitched together based on delusion and hope and wishful thinking.

She always wanted to feel close to her father, envied women who had warm and loving relationships with their dads. Even when she was younger and worshiped him, he always seemed just out of reach. A stiff hug, a peck on the cheek, money from his wallet—but never time, never affection.

The best predictor of future behavior—” “—is past behavior.

How many years did I keep waiting for things to get better, rather than do what I needed to do? Get away from someone who was hurting me.

Where were you keeping it?” “Deep, deep inside,” she said. “Where we keep everything ugly, all the things we don’t want to broadcast, don’t want to deal with.

ALL OUR LITTLE LIES “Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.” —Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard’s Almanac

It was so easy to infiltrate a life these days between social media and everyone’s insatiable desire to broadcast their day-to-day, the show they put on of themselves. It only took Anne a couple of hours to piece together a picture of almost anyone’s life, where they lived and worked, where they shopped, ate, partied, where their kids went to school. It had never been easier to gain private information and access. People just gave it all away now, often without even realizing it.

She’d always been good at that, putting unpleasant things away to focus on something else.

One thing she knew from her work in PR was that a little preemptive damage control could go a long way. Sometimes, if you could get out in front of something, you could divert disaster altogether.

Wouldn’t it be nice if your problems just went away? But problems don’t go away, not by themselves. When things are wrong, you have to fix them with your own mind and spirit.

She liked the shadows. That’s where you got to see all the things that other people missed.

If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.” —George Orwell, 1984

but he knew that you couldn’t win an argument. Anything you fight against gets stronger.

What had she wanted to be once upon a time?

Who you were is gone. Who you will be—she doesn’t exist. The only thing that matters is who are you are right now. Pop. Con artist. Zen master.