Pleasure, Penetration, & the Patriarchy

I remember the first time I felt the cliché heteronormative disparity after sex. I was 17 or 18, in sort of upstate New York, visiting my then (first) boyfriend in the house he shared with his NFL loving roommates. As I sat on the toilet, trying to expel the hell out of his cum making . . . → Read More: Pleasure, Penetration, & the Patriarchy

Fear of Being a Stepping Stone

I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m waiting for him to decide that he doesn’t want to be the boyfriend of a married woman, even if I strive to give him so much of me and of life. I’m wondering when he’ll realize personal demands that I simply cannot meet. I’m wondering when . . . → Read More: Fear of Being a Stepping Stone

Confession: I’m a Secret Lover

You know that feeling you get when you haven’t had something that you want, something that you need, in a really, really long time, and suddenly it’s in front of you, so close that you can taste it and smell it. So close that every fibre of your being is consumed with that overwhelming need . . . → Read More: Confession: I’m a Secret Lover

The Samantha Script

While searching tonight for dirty photos of myself to put on my new pr0n Twitter … yes, that’s a thing … I’ve found myself getting a little lost in old emails / screenshots from exes of the past. Yes, I save this stuff. I know I probably shouldn’t; I know that my “memory” should serve . . . → Read More: The Samantha Script

In One Piece

Falling in love gets me into trouble. I tend to fall for people who are great at describing situations I want to be involved in, but not so great at making those situations a reality. I’ve told myself that I’m cool with just casual things now, that my heart went through enough last year, so . . . → Read More: In One Piece

I Have An Addiction

I have a confession to make that seems quite timely this close to Valentine’s Day; I’m addicted to romance.

I’m not talking about red roses and cheap boxes of drugstore chocolates, or last minute gas-station cards filled with recycled sentiments and the stale smell of dust and car grease. I mean the romance that breaks . . . → Read More: I Have An Addiction

Afraid To Fall

For most of my adult life, I’ve always embraced everything that comes along with falling for somebody new. It’s a feeling that I simply adore. New Relationship Energy (NRE) and I get along like nobody’s business. And, like a person lost in puppy love fever, I seem to trust all of the decisions I make . . . → Read More: Afraid To Fall

On Toenails and Sandwiches

I realized something today while cutting my toenails. (Not my normal place for epiphanies, but I’ll take it.) For a little context, I don’t really bother much with my feet. I wear flip flops all summer and into as much of fall as possible. I paint my toes maybe every few months, and sometimes just . . . → Read More: On Toenails and Sandwiches

Back On That Horse

It’s been a while, Internet. I remember the days when I used to talk to you all the time in this medium. This site is the reason that I became anything online (though somedays I wonder if it’s because I talk about masturbation on Twitter). People would find it when searching for info on open . . . → Read More: Back On That Horse

On Being Amazing

At my dad’s funeral in 2004, one detail has always stuck out for me; how many people came up to me afterward to tell me what a nice service it was. In the absence of familiarity, strangers found themselves obligated to fill the silence with generic words of solace. Better than saying nothing, some would . . . → Read More: On Being Amazing