Nowhere does this fundamental flaw present itself more glaringly than in the domain of love. I‘m relentlessly awkward around women I’m attracted to, and I rarely ask them out on dates. When I do, they often say no. If they don’t and say yes, I’m often stilted and boring. I tend to be overeager, overtly flirtatious, and an overbearing over-sharer, in text or phone discourse with a potential partner. I rush things — I burn too hot then explode in a supernova. These cycles repeat themselves, and I spend a majority of my days wondering why I get this so wrong, despite knowing better.