When people ask me about my romantic life before my marriage, I often tell them I was a femcel.
Hindsight being what it is, I can say now that that wasn’t quite true—I wasn’t a femcel. I just didn’t feel wanted.
My premarital dating experience was marked by oscillating feelings of invisibility and disposability; cruel text messages from potbellied 20-somethings who’d tell me things like, “I don’t like big girls,” even though I was maybe 10, 15 pounds overweight at most; thousand-yard stares in night clubs as my prettier, thinner friends would retreat to the bathroom or step outside for a cigarette, and I’d be left holding the bag with the man who clearly wanted to bring them home.