When I was a teenager I would lock myself in the bathroom for hours bouffanting my hair like Patty Duke and trying to recreate Barbra Streisand's flawless eyeliner only to comb it all out and wash it all off before stepping out into the world a butchish bisexual teen.
The only day I remember of my parents' marriage was the day my dad walked out. As I stood there at five years old with my older sister and younger brother I knew that he was gone.