I typically keep three razors in my shower: one for the left cheek, one for the right, and one for my chin. I buy pink and purple because I’m comfortable with my feminine side.

Those tanga-style maxi pads—designed for use with thong underwear, which you don’t wear—that was an accidental purchase. I thought it was a box of butterfly bandages, an essential component of every first aid kit. No, I haven’t got a first aid kit but, as you can see, I was in the process of creating one. That’s why I have that half-used bottle of Midol and the extra birth control pills. You never can be too careful.

As for the travel-size shampoo for color-treated hair, well obviously that was left behind by my mother. Did I not tell you she was here? It was a one-night visit. Super quick. You were out of town or I would totally have introduced you. Oh and hey, did you notice she left makeup stains on the hand towel and a used tampon in the bin? How super annoying is that?! Incredible that a woman her age hasn’t gone through menopause yet.


The high heels in my shoe caddy are part of a Halloween costume. No, I can’t throw them out; I wear the same costume every year, together with the bra and garter belt I keep at the back of my sock drawer.

While we’re speaking of the sock drawer, yes all those socks are mine, even the ones with Snoopy on the cuffs. The truth is I wear tiny—but stretchy!—socks when I go running. They’re more comfortable than socks in my actual size. Especially because I prefer to run with my toes curled under the balls of my feet.

Oh, you saw the dirty panties in the laundry basket? I can explain that. My ex, the one who dumped me four, I mean six, I mean—when did you and I meet? Right, eight months ago, she left those here and I just… I just… I can’t bear to throw them away. I’m terribly sentimental. A big old softie, that’s me. I keep pushing them to the bottom of the basket, unable to look at them and remember how a woman so inferior to you could have hurt me so badly.


Is it really necessary to go through the garbage can? Yes, I see the notes you’ve found. They’re also from my mother. She tends to write in lipstick when she can’t find a pen. The “amazing time last night” she’s referring to was our Golden Girls marathon, for which I made popcorn and opened that bottle of champagne, now empty, that you’re holding.

Living room

I’m going to fire my housekeeper. Imagine coming in here to clean and leaving behind strands of hair that are so patently neither yours nor mine. And cat hair, too! You know how I hate cats. I’m so glad you haven’t got a cat. I would never date a woman who kept cats, not even if she was a nymphomaniac yoga instructor. I swear.


Confession: I have a fetish for small pink raincoats. This was meant to be a surprise, but I bought you that coat to spice up our love life. Would you mind wearing it tonight? Ha, ha. Of course, it looks used; I got it second-hand so I could save up for Our Life Together.

You’re so paranoid! You have to understand I had a difficult childhood. Hence I write myself self-affirming notes—for example these—and put them on the hallway corkboard to raise my self-esteem. “Babe” is a pet name I give myself. And that’s not a lipstick kiss it’s a smudge of rose-scented strawberry jam—my favorite, by the way; a little detail you would know if you really loved me.


Yes, now that you point it out I do notice there are heel scuffs on the railing. It’s almost as if a person with size eight women’s shoes climbed up there to contemplate flinging herself into oblivion at the unfairness of life. To be honest I find this really disturbing.

Was that you or her?