Coco Mellors

“I think men are taught to buy things for women, yes. Not because we want to own you or control you, but because it’s a way to show we’re interested or we care that doesn’t require much, I don’t know, vulnerability. We’re not taught to communicate the way you are. We’re given these very limited, primitive tools to express ourselves, and, yes, buying a fucking meal is one of them. But women also expect that from us—”

“Sorry I never called you back,” exclaimed one guest to another across the room. “I threw my phone out the window after a bad haircut!”

And now all he wants to talk about is doing ayahuasca,” a woman wearing a turban was saying to Zoe. “He goes down to Peru for the ceremonies and acts like it’s some rare skill he’s learned. I’m like, honey, it’s a drug, not a degree.”

Anyway, the only outfit anyone will remember is yours.

the only outfit anyone will remember is yours.

the thought that he had something Anders wanted gave Frank an inner glow of satisfaction.

What’s mine is mine. What’s yours is yours. That’s the appropriate boundary between an adult woman and her mother.

She sipped her drink and smiled to herself in that funny, secret way she had. She always seemed to be keeping up an amusing dialogue with herself in her head, one that he was constantly hoping to become a part of.

spent the rest of the evening braced to run into Cleo. He scanned for her blond head among the crowd, felt the stomach twist of excitement when he thought he saw it, then the drop of disappointment when
it was not her.

“What did you study?”

“Business at Stanford.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Anders.

“You never asked,” said Yaayaa.

“Well, we haven’t known each other that long.”

“Santiago’s only just met me, and he asked.”