I trashed my vision boards because I’m sick of my feminine life as a marriage plot or as a romantic comedy — not a good one in which the hero and heroine finally make it together, but as a tragic one in which the heroine never gets it together but, gosh, she’s pretty and funny, and her friends love her stories, and they do at-home blackhead removal and drink mimosas and laugh with their teeth grazing the ceilings. That heroine — she’s such a good protagonist! She’s quirky! She gets bangs! Then her mom sends her a positive review of a book titled Spinsters, and she texts a thank you to good-intentioned mother for “Such a thoughtful piece!” and then she cries into her cat’s fur, spilling wine on the couch. Cliché with a capital C.