Cassie's relationship with the chef is literally going nowhere. She knows this, but is seeking comfort where she can get it, exchanging physical intimacy for the experience of emotional intimacy; even though that emotional intimacy is a charade, a hollow performance with no truth at its core. Now that I'm writing it, I'm realizing I've done this myself in the past. When you're lonely, any bearable company can feel better than nothing at all; it's relief from being alone with your thoughts.

Cassie's inability to connect with her "friends" shows that she's outgrown them. Whatever they once had in common (a job, a neighborhood) is no longer connecting them, but nobody has dared to admit this, so they're clinging on to the routine of making plans and hanging out, even though it's stopped being fun or rewarding in any way. I wanted to whisper to Cassie, "Move to a new town! Take a new job! Find a new circle of people who light you up." But it's hard when you're feeling that low, to remember that there is a wider world than you have yet glimpsed.

We've all had friendships that no longer serve us. It can be easier to let them fade away slowly, rather than confronting those people with the news that you'd rather not spend time with them anymore. But for Cassie, those people make up her entire social and professional network; there is nobody she can speak her mind to and trust that they have her back. That's a real shame. Our health depends on us being able to express our feelings. When everything stays internal, we never decompress, and the negativity and isolation builds up. Maybe the book is a cautionary tale to remind the reader to commit to emotional authenticity, or reap the consequences. I hadn't thought of it like that until now.