Her name is Rachel, and she’s Jewish, which means she’s the first date in years who would meet my family’s requirements.
She takes me back to her apartment and shows me personal, meaningful things. I try to be interested and compassionate, but I don’t want her to think this is long-term. She says she hasn’t thrown up for two years. I tell her I don’t throw up anymore, either. While she talks to me, I size her up—not gorgeous, but an incredible voice. She’s got a flat stomach but flat breasts. I hope for really big nipples.
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    I bought this on Friday and started reading it on the bus, not necessarily with the plan of continuing it right away, as...
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