Lynn Painter

I was never at ease in social situations. Ever.I overthought each word that was spoken and worried too much about the tiniest of details. I stressed over what everyone was thinking about me, how I looked, what I was doing; on a normal day, social gatherings gave me anxiety.

“I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”
—Notting Hill

Why would Bridget give up the cuter one—the charming one—for the person who was the equivalent of one ginormous yawn? How did that even make sense?