"People will always find each other."

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At a house party like three years ago, I knew I was going to run into a friend’s long-dreaded, life-ruiner ex who had just moved into our neighborhood. I was feet-planted firm about showing no kindness—and the ex made that very easy. In an attempt to convince me to watch a new show they liked, they called it heartwarming. I felt another friend twitch next to us. ‘Maggie won’t like that,’ she said, and I said, ‘I hate heartwarming’.

I had been seeking an opportunity to flash a loyal blade of hostility on my friend’s behalf, but I really do hate everything heartwarming. It seems shallow about the wrong thing, whereas I like when people are deep about the wrong thing. Things that are heartwarming are usually sticky with goody-two-shoes please-like-me desperation.

Except for my exceptions. And a book or song or movie that forces an exception to my personal tastes: what a pleasure onto itself!! You are so good—I think lovingly about this item—that you threw a brick and smashed a window into my brain and I liked it.

My favorite exception recently is Box Hill, by Adam Mars-Jones, the basis for the movie Pillion, which I have only seen the trailer for, despite 1.5 attempts to get to a movie theater. It’s a love story between a decisive motorcyclist and a shy gardener, in the world of 1970s deep leather kink dynamics. I mistrust so many words I keep almost typing about this book: Tender. Love story. Soulmate. Heartwarming.

I love one word I learned from the book: coriaceous. It’s botany term primarily that describes a tough, leathery, skin-like texture on a leaf. This book is not coriaceous. It might look that way, but it’s the softest petal.

I haven’t been so moved by a romance in a long time. There’s one line I keep returning to in my mind: “People will always find each other.” The narrator brings it up when a motorcycle magazine starts cracking down on men using the classifieds section to find sex and love. But, even when they’re effectively banned, they still manage to locate the pillions to their bikers. People will always find each other. I tear up. The cold heart, she’s warmed.

• An update to a previous note: I’m now, once again, good at making a bridge with playing cards.