Maybe

“Andrew, I believe you,” Danni says, and I feel a surge of hope. “I don’t know what to tell you. Would I be OK with dating you, knowing you’re spending hours every week with your face buried between other girls’ legs? I’m going to have to think about that. I like you, I’m definitely attracted to you—and there’s a part of me that thinks everything you’ve told me is really hot. But there’s a part of me that wonders if you could really be faithful to me when you’re doing—that. At the same time, if I’m wrong to doubt you—well, I don’t want to sell you short, and I don’t want to risk you resenting me for making you stop.”

That possibility hadn’t occurred to me, but it should have. I nod, thoughtfully, and Danni goes on, “Right now, all I can say is, ‘maybe’—to anything. I have to think about it. Can you be patient with me?”

“Of course I can, Danni,” I say gently. “Take the time you need.”

“Thank you,” she responds. “Saying that makes me feel that I can trust you.”