“Does the person you like, like you back?”

I could have ignored the question as it scrolled down my Twitter feed. I’m usually annoyed when Twitter asks random probing questions, but I felt compelled to answer: “Nope.” My finger hovered over the “Send” button. Would admitting I was on the undesirable end of a crush ruin my carefree single girl image? Would a suitor (former or current) read the tweet as a confession of woeful pining? Was this fact of my life any of Twitter’s business?

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The events I’m about to describe deserve examination, because I don’t want you to think they happened with ease. Even as my friends assured me that I had not, in fact, flung my life into chaos triggered by immaturity and delusion, I fought my fear every step of the way. This isn’t a neat “Ask the Universe and you shall receive” tale. This is a story of making decisions that scared the shit out of me, that could have ended horribly, but somehow wound up in my favor.

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