When I was twenty-four, in February of my final semester at grad school, I was reeling from chaos in my personal life—to keep an already long story from getting even longer, let’s just say I’d fallen in love with my coworker, roommate, and best friend, who ended up sleeping with our other coworker and lying about it. The first time just so happened to be the same night we’d all gotten plastered together on the Upper West Side and she told me she’d been ‘mortified’ when he asked her out, because they were just friends. They didn’t have the same kind of relationship we did, she said.
