I don’t sleep. Between my shame at acting like such a petulant child with Nicole, and wanting to wring my dad’s neck, I’m not sure what to do with my emotions. I recognize that it’s a good thing that I ripped the bandage off with her before things got too serious.

I also don’t shower because I can’t bear to wash away the last lingering remnants of her scent on my hands, on my skin. Yes. I marinated in my own post-run, post-sex funk. So ...