What amazes me is how warm, welcoming and supportive, by contrast, the beauty community has been--so much for women boiling down to claw-popping, hair-pulling stereotypes who only want to catfight each other into submission; guess that's not unless they're after the same man or pair of Louboutins. (Rimshot! Please, don't call the acolytes of the political inquisition to lynch me for that one.)
So have the fan communities. I've never had a legitimate reason to regret my fangirling. Question it, rethink it, reformulate and reprioritise it, sure. But no regrets.
But I regret almost every other group I've tried to belong to, entering intrigued and exiting dejected, wondering all over again what's so wrong with, so objectional about, me.
That's when Paul comes along and promises that he and I will always be a clique of two...that I'm Danielle Ophelia Southcott, his beautiful, sexy, brilliant wife, and the most amazing person he's ever known...that even when my character is charged with a felony, even when something falls way short of my hopes, even when I feel like the stupidest, most reviled person in the world...he'll still open his arms.
"Where there is desire there is gonna be a flame/ Where there is a flame someone's bound to get burned/ But just because it burns doesn't mean you're gonna die..."
Because I have too much to live for. No matter what happens, I'll always be half of Love's Most Unstoppable Force.