Spot on

Jag läser Curtis Sittenfelds senaste bok, The Man Of My Dreams, utan att blinka, känns det som. Ibland är det som att läsa sig själv (i ett klarsynt ögonblick). Inatt var jag tvungen att läsa följande stycke flera gånger och jag har ännu inte kunnat släppa det:

He is talking more slowly when he says, "I know I only met you once before today, but you seem like you have your act together. You don't seem like you need rescuing."
Is the depressing part that he's only half right - it's not that she doesn't need rescuing but that nobody else will be able to do it? She has always somehow known that she is the one who will have to rescue herself. Or maybe what's depressing is that this knowledge seems like it should make life easier, and instead it makes it harder.