Wynbrandt’s self-deprecating sense of humor is a delight. I laughed and cringed alongside her sexual misadventures, which she writes about from her past, present, and in her imagined future. Her fantasies veer towards the outlandish and absurd, envisioning herself getting a makeover from her fairy godmother Kim Kardashian, or in bed with a robot in the far future. There’s an arc where she tries to find a cat to mentor her in the vein of Sailor Moon, encounters a horrible group of cats drawn with disturbing human faces, and things just get more wild from there.

This collection is just as poignant as it is ridiculous, and Wyndbrandt’s depiction of herself - with all the conflicting confidence and self doubt that wars within women - felt right on. It was a treat to read about this person whose stories were so unlike my own, and yet whose spirit on display made me smile and feel seen.