It is not an understatement for me to say that I went into Thaw with huge, huge hopes...there just are no words for how it feels to find a character in a book who feels exactly the same way you do about something people rarely, if ever, talk about. With passages like these:
It wasn’t that she hated the idea of sex, just . . . she didn’t want it. Didn’t need it. But no one else ever seemed to feel that way; in high school, college, and even now in the break room at work, where some of the part-time ladies would talk about their husbands or dates during lunch, sex was always the focus of every relationship.
...in front of her. Still, the thought of having someone to spend time with, to talk to, maybe to hold while she slept? It sounded romantic. Perfect. Why was it so difficult for others to contemplate a relationship built on mutual affection, on romantic gestures that didn’t extend into the bedroom? Abby wanted roses and inside jokes, something easy and natural. Sex was a complication she didn’t have any interest in.
Abby knew what people had said about her in the past: that she was frigid, weird, broken. That not wanting to have sex made her somehow less than human. And despite that, she’d accepted her asexuality for what it was, never mourned the loss of something she didn’t want in the first place.
There are more like this and the story itself is extremely sincere and moving and is everything I had hoped it would be with a beautiful friendship/romance being more than enough for both women. I can honestly say I have never read anything like this before; it almost feels like I dreamed it, but in a good way.
There are more like this and the story itself is extremely sincere and moving and is everything I had hoped it would be with a beautiful friendship/romance being more than enough for both women. I can honestly say I have never read anything like this before; it almost feels like I dreamed it, but in a good way.
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