Can sex really mean nothing?

A few years ago I realized I couldn’t have a one night stand. Yes, 100% I was a bad closer. And bars weren’t my scene. But really, I thought it would make me a slut. Could I be the woman who had sex just to have sex? What did that say about me? Shame is an

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boyfriends & underwear drawers

I’ve lived alone for half of my life. It started at fourteen in a tiny, single dorm room at boarding school. My bed was stacked on top of my dresser and required a running start. I hated it there, but I tucked myself into that room. It was safe and it was mine. In real life

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Are fuck buddies a myth?

Are friends with benefits, or fuck buddies, or lovers in the same zip code a real thing or are they just a myth propagated to make dating even more frustrating than it already is? I for one am great at the long distance lover scenario. I can have intimacy and space at the same time. I

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I asked a guy out…

I asked a guy out a few weeks ago. Literally the first time I have ever done that minus asking a delightful young gentleman to prom when I was 17. But that was a matter of high school survival. There was no choice. This was a four week, multi-human effort, and that’s not counting the months I’d

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the practice of seeing myself.

I sidle up to my reflection in my bathroom mirror, unable to approach it head-on. I always greet my body like this in the morning, cautiously, as if approaching a wild animal. Unsure how either of us will react. I still don’t know, reaction being a variable I can’t control no matter how badly I

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“I think you have an authority issue.”

“I think you have an authority issue.” The five other people around the table, myself included, agree. Only I can’t consent out loud, just nod to myself in agreement. I’m 20 minutes into the work-shopping of my latest essay. You aren’t allowed to talk during workshop. It’s like being privy to an incredibly articulate gossip

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we will never be ready. we have to choose anyways.

I’m always surprised when someone likes me. I’m not an asshole. I get that. But I’m taken aback when someone is unabashedly excited by me. Um, excuse me. I think you missed something. Like that I have no idea what I’m doing 98% of the time. Or that it took me 8 versions of this

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I don’t like the word boyfriend.

I don’t like the word boyfriend. I don’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend. I used to say that on dates the same way I still say penis. To see if they can hang. To determine their threshold for the unexpected and the vulnerable.  Can they handle me? The, penis I don’t want to be your girlfriend,

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I am feminine.

I’m afraid that I’m not feminine. That my body isn’t the right shape, that it doesn’t have the right curves, or the right lack there of. That my hair is too short. My tattoos too challenging. My confidence too abundant. All of those things question the smallness of a femininity has been presented to me my entire life. Who will

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life is like a really big tattoo…

The very first person I talked to after I got my very first tattoo was a conservative gentleman wearing a suit in the elevator of my apartment building. “New ink?” I hadn’t even finished saying yes and he had already unlocked his phone and located a picture of his full back piece of a dragon stretched

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