That I am a loser because I didn’t have a boyfriend in high school.
That there is something terribly wrong with me because I graduated as a virgin.
That no one can value my opinion because I do not have a penis.
That I should forgive everyone who’s ever bullied me without any apology, but I should apologize for having the audacity to put my own well-being first.
That if I identify as a lesbian, I can not talk about sex with my girlfriend or show any public displays of affection.
That if I am publicly outed, I should thank the person who outed me because it’s for my own good.
That I should never, ever, ever return the favor and out a gay male.
That if I have dreams, and individuality, that I should give them up for my significant other because his are more important.
That if I had been a lazy, irresponsible and indecisive, teenage boy, then all the good things in life would have fallen into my lap without any effort or sacrifice.
That if I’d had a baby at sixteen, been kicked out of my home, and had no adult in my life to support me and guide me, then I should have just grown up and stopped complaining about my rich white girl problems.
That if I’m ever paralyzed from the waist down after being hit by a truck, I shouldn’t worry about it, because I will come through it without a scar and be dancing in three months.
That everything can (and must) be fixed by a cute boy.
That if I find a television show that I think I like, to turn it off after season one and save myself the trouble.