Sometimes, this came in the form of sacrificing myself for a relationship I was in. When I was a sophomore at Manhattan College in the Bronx, I was dating a guy who went to Columbia. And one rainy Saturday, my roommate, Carly, and I decided that we wanted to be incredibly lazy. So instead of running down to my boyfriend like I normally would, Carly and I ordered a pizza, popped in a Seinfeld DVD, and just loafed around our dorm all day. When I did eventually make it down to Columbia to see my boyfriend, he was pissed. “If I had a day where I had nothing to do, I’d want to spend it with you — not anyone else,” he yelled. He made me feel bad for choosing myself (and my friend) over him. So from then on, whenever I had a free moment, I’d rush down to Columbia to see him, always choosing him over my friends. He was my boyfriend, we were in love, and that’s what I thought you were supposed to do.