“I fell and really hurt myself. Could I come over?” I sobbed on the phone to John, the guy I’d just begun seeing. I’d been coming from drinks with friends and had slipped down the stairs to the subway, twisting my ankle, as well as badly bruising my tailbone and my pride. Now, even though I wasn’t physically hurt, I felt shaky and wanted to be taken care of by a potential boyfriend.
“Well … ” I heard hesitation on the other line. “Now’s not really a good time. What happened?”
“I fell on the subway stairs,” I whined pathetically, even though, in the back of my mind, I knew I was fine. I knew all I needed was Advil and a large bag of ice. I know I should have told him that. But I didn’t. Keep reading »