They All Fall in Love at the End - Haili Blassingam 6/2
It’s the fall of 2024, and twenty-four-year-old Cat isn’t asking for too much: all she wants is three boyfriends, to write her little novels, and to survive another chaotic presidential election. She’s in an open relationship with her college sweetheart Jay, but nonmonogamy isn’t just a hot trend she’s trying. It’s her sliver of freedom in a world eager to wrestle it from her for being a Black woman going after what she wants with reckless abandon.
While political tensions roil the campus where Cat is slowly earning her creative writing degree, she finds herself drawn to Jay’s best friend, Tristan, who’s smart, super hot, and…in a monogamous relationship. And then she meets Tristan’s girlfriend, Nia, a captivating art student with her own gravitational pull.
Friends and family urge her to just be happy with Jay, but Cat is determined to have it all—or blow up her life trying. As she falls for all the wrong people, racking up lies, betrayals, and terrible drafts of her novel, she tries to write her way to a happy ending. But in art, politics, and love, true liberation may take more than rewriting the old scripts. It may mean inventing something entirely new.
Reading "They All Fall in Love at the End" really made me reflect on the complexities and beauty of nonmonogamous relationships, especially in the context of cultural and political challenges. Cat’s story highlights how love can be multifaceted and not confined to traditional boundaries, something I've seen becoming more discussed but still feels very personal and unique in each case. What struck me the most is how Cat uses her relationships and writing as forms of self-expression and liberation. It’s powerful to see a Black woman protagonist actively shaping her own narrative against societal pressures—a theme that resonates deeply in today’s world where political tensions can affect personal freedoms. Nonmonogamy as a deliberate, thoughtful choice rather than a trend adds an important perspective. It’s not just about having multiple partners, but about seeking sincere connection and autonomy in a world that often tries to place limits, especially on Black women. This approach to love and identity felt very authentic and refreshing. The story also touches on how creative arts—like Cat’s novels and Nia’s art—play a role in questioning and redefining traditional scripts about love, politics, and freedom. It reminded me of how art can be a sanctuary and a tool for social commentary, forcing us to invent new ways of understanding ourselves and our relationships. If you’re exploring themes of love with complexity, identity, and political awareness, this narrative offers a relatable and timely exploration. It challenges readers to reconsider what happiness and liberation mean in intimate relationships and in life. I found myself rooting for Cat to find her version of freedom, even if the path is messy and uncertain. It’s an inspiring reminder that sometimes the most meaningful stories are those about inventing entirely new scripts for living and loving.