No Longer Running From My Emotions
09/09/2022
At 19, I rejected his romantic gestures because they were too intense. At 27, I relished intensity.
At 19, I rejected his romantic gestures because they were too intense. At 27, I relished intensity.
A stray flier for roof repairs sent me crashing into concrete — and my husband into an almost affair.
Our connection began behind masks, with eyes only, and grew so deep so fast that I began to dread a return to normal here in Shanghai.
I had barely seen my brother in decades, but when time was short, he let me in.
While I was living in the basement of my university’s library, he watched me sleep. Then he left a note in my shoe.
What a terrifying relief it was to have to tell the truth about everything.
As a single, 27-year-old Muslim woman, I had never experienced physical intimacy, not even a kiss. And as a television writer, I needed more experiences to draw from.
Maybe mine?
At 18, I didn’t want to be the captain of my own fate. Fourteen years later, I do, and am.
For $100, could I stop flirting with men when my mother was around? And could she stop talking about my brush with mortality?