I’d once felt special because I thought I was the exception, that I wasn’t like other girls, but the truth is there’s no such thing as being like other girls or not. I was like me, and these new women I was meeting were only themselves too, a mix of temperaments and interests that I found intriguing. I wanted to impress them and began to pursue hanging out with them. In one instance, I spent months trying to schedule a dinner with a fellow writer. We’d met once before at drinks with her boyfriend, and I left that evening wanting to get to know her better. When we finally got dinner, I related to every single thing she said. We had the kind of conversation that felt like we’d scripted it, a continuum of agreement and empathy that went on for hours. When I left her that night, I was overjoyed with my new friend.