A few months ago, I sat alone at a restaurant table for two, staring at my phone and pretending I was perfectly comfortable. The woman I was supposed to meet had texted twenty minutes earlier. I’m so sorry. Something came up. Can we rain check? Of course, I replied that it was completely fine. It

The first time I felt genuinely jealous of another woman, I was twenty-six, sitting in a coffee shop, watching a friend announce on Instagram that she’d just been made a deputy editor at a magazine I’d applied to twice. I liked the post within thirty seconds. I typed a congratulations that was warm and specific