When Grace and I first started dating, it was immediately clear that she wasn't like most girls. My exgirlfriend cursed out strangers, mailed trash to litterbugs, swung from trees. Grace was polite, very carefully collected, and incredibly agreeable.
"ON OUR FIRST DATE"INT. HAMA SUSHI, LITTLE TOKYOCINDY...yeah, and I don't necessarily even think pedophilia is disgusting. It's just a social construct...GRACE... yeah, totally. To each his own, y'know?END FLASHBACK
Wait, what just happened here? Did you even hear what I said?
So in the first few months of our courtship, I just thought Grace was really-- and I regret to say this now-- fake. Phony. A caricature of one of those bubbly "nice girls" on TV that would say anything to be liked.
Even when I started sleeping over, I thought that surely being soggy with sleep would disarm her, but she kept with that exact one-dimensional, poised, smiling stiffness. Surely she isn't stupid or simple-- not Grace with her "I have to read exactly one book per month" regimen, with her endless recitation of trivia about old movies, cameras, and fun food facts...
She was such a mystery to me, so I pressed on. One night, I asked her to tell me one of her deep, dark secrets. I told her I liked Michael Bolton. And then she turns to me and tells me, with absolutely no hesitation or syncopation, something so inappropriate and so heavy that even to this day, I can barely repeat the words in my head without revisting that shock. And the entire time, she's got that really sweet smile.
Then she started to unravel, and that's when things got bad.
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