You know how on dating shows you always get that one girl who says she’s a princess, then names an endless list of impossible demands?
I am not that girl.
That is not to say I have no standards. I have standards about many things — I’m very particular about where I live, the diary I write in, and the milk that goes in my tea.
But every so often I have 0 issues with roughing it. Actually zero issue at all. A masochistic part of me even likes the thrill. I’ve slept on airport floors, spent the night on the streets of London, lived in an old, crumbling ex-mental health hospital, and jumped into lakes in the middle of November.