There went any progress we’d made in being friends. It was going to take more than shared lunches and singing Christmas carols to get over the fact that I’d basically implied he was capable of murdering his own family.

The thought of not having a chance to kiss me again made you throw yourself off a roof. I should be more careful. I know the effect I can have on women.

You know it’s absolutely fine for people to disagree, to be mad at each other.

Is it so bad to want something that you know is wrong?

In the end, I think it comes down to being comfortable with who you are versus where you are.

The easy thing isn’t the same as the right thing.

We’re guys. I punched him, he hit me back, and then everything was fine. We went out for ice cream after.

Then it occurred to me: You either waited for someone else to do the right thing, or you stood up and did it yourself.

If someone were crushed to death trying to get a frosty can of Diet Coke, it wouldn’t be my fault. I’d tried to raise the issue.

I couldn’t decide if I was more offended that people thought I was the kind of person who would kill myself over a boyfriend or that I was apparently too stupid to know how to do it right.