To begin with, I’m not a nice girl. Don’t get me wrong, I used to be a nice girl. I used to be kind, and helpful, considerate and thoughtful. The kind of girl who went to all of her boyfriend’s games, even though she hates basketball; the kind of girl who helped her boyfriend study for his English final while she should have been studying for her own calculus final—and maybe she would have done better than that C; the kind of girl the boys at school lovingly call, oh, what’s that cute little name they have for us again? Oh, yes—Doormat.
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