Misdelivered, by Aisha Wiley

I’ve dated two male models, which is a feat for someone like me. Trust me, at the time, it perplexed me as much as it vexed everyone watching, but the models were fine with it, mind you. They were both admirable souls. And two in one lifetime? It’s almost unbelievable. Ah well. In the end it played out as this kind of story demands. Deep down, I agreed with society that being with someone so crazy-beautiful was a cosmic joke, like a neighbor’s misdelivered package. A temporary joy, but something to be humbly walked back to the right person.