You’ve been groomed to hate women who win. But it’s not all your fault - here’s why.
I was sixteen, working my first part-time job, and hopelessly naïve. There was a boy. Cute behind a COVID mask, flirty during bin runs; the kind of crush that made every after-school shift feel exciting. The supervisors caught on and scheduled us together for weeks, but it fizzled when – drunk with his mates – he texted, What are we? And I awkwardly typed, I don’t know, sorry.
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