“Lust, learn, and love,” she says, placing the condiments and touching her finger to the ketchup. “My mother said the first boy – or man – is a crush. You think you love them, but what you really love is how they make you feel. It’s not love. It’s lust. Lust for attention. Lust for danger. Lust to feel special.” She looks between us. “You’re needy with number one. Needy for someone to love you.”
