I do what most women do. I meet someone and some of it's right, maybe he looks right, or has the right job, or the right background, and, instead of sitting back and waiting for him to reveal his other bits, I make them up. I decide how he thinks, how he's going to treat me, and, sure enough, every time I conclude that this time he's definitely my perfect man, and all of a sudden, well, not so suddenly perhaps, usually around six months after we've split up, I see that he wasn't the person I thought he was at all.
The weirdest thing of all is that it feels so right. I suppose it's true what they say, you never know it's right until it is, although I'm really scared of saying that out loud just in case he turns out to be a bastard, but somehow I don't think he will.
She always says she doesn't believe women should get married before the age of thirty-five. She says women change so much in their twenties, they can't possibly know who they are, and the choices they make before the age of thirty are rarely good ones.
Jane Green has the following books quoted on Quodid: