“Why does he have to be my boyfriend? Are you inferior if you don't have a boyfriend? Why does everybody have to be in love with somebody?”

“Why does loving somebody mean you have to hurt them just as much? I mean if that’s the way it goes, what’s the point of loving someone? Why the hell does it have to be like that?”

“Why does everybody have to be with somebody? It’s a stupid delusion and a really pathetic way of thinking.”

“That’s why girls have boyfriends. So you have someone to take you to boring functions.”

“Listen.” The voice is extremely loud, and I am forced to hold the telephone away from my ear. “I don’t know who you are, or why you have Jack’s phone, but he is my boyfriend, and—”Boyfriend? What is a boyfriend? Perhaps it is something like a beau. “Is he engaged to you, then?” I hope not.“What? No. Of course not.”“Oh, what a relief. He is my true love, and you do not sound very nice.”“What? Listen, you . . .”And then, strangely enough, she calls me a female dog.”

“I want to believe you, but if that's true, I just don't get it. Why does loving somebody mean you have to hurt them just as much? I mean, if that's the way it goes, what's the point of loving someone?”