“Know what you are, John? You’re an asshole magnet.” She said other mean stuff (as did I), but I’ve forgotten the rest. We were in the middle of that particularly painful part of the break-up ritual: when the sweet wine of love turns into bitter vinegar in your mouth; when the potion you and Isolde quaffed a lifetime ago turns into a kind of Tourette’s-inducing truth serum, and we fall into an epileptic fit of compulsive truth-telling. Still, she was right about me. I do seem to have an unusually high number of difficult friends. But the reason for this has nothing to do with sphincters or magnetism, and everything to do with my lifelong love affair with courage. No virtue charms me more. But every love comes at a cost, even the love of a virtue.
—John Faithful Hamer, The Myth of the Fuckbuddy (2016)