Summary
Chapter 0 By my third year scraping by in the city, I found myself sharing an apartment with a complete stranger. Every day, he made me congee, dried my hair, and stayed up late beside me while I revised my PowerPoints. I thought it was love, until I saw the Excel spreadsheet on his computer. Seven girls. My entry read: “Traumatized by family of origin; prone to dependency; requires long-term maintenance.” I didn’t move out, and I didn’t call him out. I simply continued to eat his congee and accept his favors, watching as he slowly, genuinely began to fall for me. Three months later, he was on his knees, professing his love. I just smiled, took a screenshot of that spreadsheet, and sent it to every woman on the list.