Now I let people see that I care. I show enthusiasm without worrying it makes me look desperate. I admit when I'm struggling. I laugh at jokes even if they're dumb. I get excited about things. And you know what? The right people actually like me more this way.

There's this unspoken rule that women have to play it cool, especially as we get older. We're supposed to be mysterious, hard to get, always one step ahead. But that comes from a place of fear—fear that if we're too real, too honest, too enthusiastic, we'll be rejected or used.

By my thirties, I realized rejection happens anyway. And the people worth knowing actually prefer the real version of me. They prefer the version that gets emotional about books, that laughs too loudly, that admits she doesn't have everything figured out.

I'm done performing. I'm done being cool. And I'm happier for it.