Hello. My name is Mars and I’m a neurotic.
I imagined a dozen or so other individuals, similar chicken-shits like me, sitting in a circle and uniting in a chorus of, “Hello, Mars,” before the meeting of the ARO—Avoiding-Relationships-Oholics—could begin.
Yes, I admit it, I was acting like an irrational fool. Delia, bless her, was indeed correct in everything she’d said. Despite my hots for Reed, I was scared shitless to take that last step, and I’d created way too many baseless emotional roadblocks for myself on the highway to happiness. I had somehow lumped Reed and Warren together in the same category, generalizing them solely on the basis of their history with women, and my dread of failure with another “straight man” had once again created an eleventh-hour crisis, preventing me from
