You Can Feel That He Wants To

But Then You Hear That He Can't Hear You, You See That He Can't See You. You Are Not Here--and You Haven't Even Died Yet. You See Yourself Through His Eyes, As The Generic Woman, The Skirted Symbol On The Ladies' Room Door.

He Gives Me A Kiss That Barely Touches My Lips – It Means Nothing Or Everything. After He’s Gone, I Think, Happy Birthday To Me. Jack Says, ‘that Was The Guy?’ ‘that Was Him.’ Jake Shakes His Head. ‘what?’ ‘he’s Not For You,’ He Says. I Say, ‘how Do You Know?’ But What I Mean Is, How Do You Know? ‘he’s Like Ashley Wilkes,’ He Says. ‘any One Of These Guys Is Rhett-ier Than He Is.’ Again, I Ask My Benignly Inflected, ‘how Do You Know?’ ‘how Do I Know?’ He Says, Tackling Me Into A Bear Hug. ‘how Do I Know? I Know, That’s How I Know.

You Sense That He's Dangerous But Don't Now Why - And Wonder If It's Because He Makes You Feel Safer Than You've Ever Felt.

The Only Relationships I Haven't Wrecked Right Away Were The Ones That Wrecked Me Later.

I Guess Love Is The Real Suspension Of Disbelief.