When I was nine I made this boy I liked cookies because I thought he was cute. I made them from scratch and by myself watching them rise slowly in the oven, making sure they were the perfect shade of brown. I wrapped them carefully in a paper bag I decorated with little pink and red hearts I cut out of construction paper and glued them meticulously into patterns on the side of the bag. I was so nervous walking up to him to give him the bag I almost peed my Rainbow Bright underwear. When I presented them to him with, “They’re chocolate chip macadamia nut, you’re favorite.” He unceremoniously took the bag, ripped it open, stuffed two in his mouth, and walked away. I was devastated. He was oblivious. And so that same pattern would play out over my adult dating life from the petty: unreturned phone calls to the extreme: sleeping with other women without my knowledge or permission. It’s been a vast spectrum of dumb ever since.
