Being wanted, feeling wanted, is a type of intoxication. Especially if you’ve never, or rarely, felt it before.
Some of my most vivid memories – the ones that are encoded in technicolor and carved into my neurons – are from early experiences of being desired. This is the double-edged blade of the way women are taught to see our desirability as one of the main things defining our value: the despair of those moments when we’ve felt starkly undesirable are almost worth it, for the druglike highs of being liked, being wanted, being craved.