Don’t believe everything you’re told:

“The Queen of Oversharing: The personal essay may be over—but Joyce Maynard isn’t,”

Her first husband and her three children are Snowy to her Tintin: reliable sidekicks yoked to the central character for the length of the run. The husband spent the duration of her 1980s syndicated column, “Domestic Affairs,” as the ideal partner; in the ’90s (after the divorce) he was revealed in subsequent essays and books as a cruel bastard who pressured her to get an abortion and filed a motion to have her declared an unfit mother. Lately, he has emerged as the co-victim of a bad union, as she has confessed that she actually had a long affair with his close friend.

Everyone has a narrative. Most people’s narratives leave some shit out. Whenever someone tells you some story, think about the dark matter of that story. This goes doubly for anything relating to abuse or “abuse,” which are both trendy these days.

For some reason, at least half a dozen women have told me on first dates or near first dates about abuse or “abuse,” and with every one of them I did the same thing: no more dates, no more escalation. Don’t need that shit. If she’s sharing it inappropriately early, run.

Some guys are assholes. Some women are too. But be pretty cagey about anyone who paints their ex as a total demon. If the ex is a demon, why did she (or sometimes he) date him in the first place? There’s some shit there that’s not being revealed.

Maynard also reiterates a common theme you’ve heard before: don’t get married, cause you never know whether she’s going to have a long affair with someone. I wonder if that guy’s kids are even his.

I’m starting to think that women are more RP than men, to guys who are paying attention. Which most of us aren’t.