How Excited Are You For Adult Summer Break?

3 Jul

a) I’m gonna tan all day and have sex all night!

b) If I go north will it get colder?

c) The gym has more AC than my apartment. LESSER OF TWO EVILS.

d) How do you cook things without making any heat? Raw diet?

This Is The Story Of A Girl

29 Jun

The story of a girl who was treated really really well by a boy. She was 20, he was 25. It lasted 2 months. A year later he married someone else.

The first night they spent together she said “I don’t really like penetrative sex.” They didn’t do it the whole summer except for when she suggested it.

She said her feet hurt one night. Every night from then on he gave her his seat when she arrived.

When she said she was sad they worked so much they never went on real dates he grabbed some goldfish and said they should go on a walk/picnic.

When his alarm went off and scared her he changed the tone of it before the next day.

One summer, one sweet man, treating her like a person taught her what it meant to say no and have it be heard. Taught her what it feels like when your chest expands to fit the size of a bigger, better heart. It means that now she can turn down personal and professional offers that aren’t good enough for her or give her a bad feeling.

Anyone can be that teacher. Anyone can raise the bar on how someone expects to be treated. All you have to do is bring your A-game.

Cause He’s Watching And He’s Proud

27 Jun

I’ve had this sneaking suspicion for as long as I can remember, that my nature was my dads and my nurture was my moms.

And I felt somewhat guilty about this. Like I was betraying… both of them?

But on Mothers day, at brunch my mom said it out loud.

Now I want to be clear.

Often I write uncomfortable things here, things about how satisfying crying can be, or the depth of grief. And people try to console me. My mother and my friends and the guys I date reach out to make sure I’m ok.

The amazing thing is that I usually get that sort of treatment about stories which are joyous in my own head. That revelation about crying was one of the best feelings I’ve ever had. It changed my life in such a positive way. And yet, lots of people used it as an opportunity to tell me they were here for me, seemingly completely missing the point.

So let me say right here that when my mom told me “She’s always been more her dads side of the family” it felt so good, such a relief. I wasn’t harboring fugitive feelings anymore. I was right, I was alert and aware. Not to mention a daughter of my father, which also feels good.

I don’t like sitting through movies. I get bored when people don’t express themselves using the full capacity of the english language, I enjoy writing with wit and poignance. I’m my fathers daughter.

Terry Crews Is Amazing

25 May

Are you guys listening to Anna Faris’s podcast, Unqualified?

You should. And I’ll tell you what episode to listen to, episode 72 with Terry Crews. Terry Crews is amazing and I love him.

Click here to get it if you’re on your phone.

Click here for the website.

Prepare to love Terry Crews with all your might. Prepare for Terry Crews to unpack how he escaped the cult of toxic masculinity.

Gold. Pure gold.

No More Eggplant

23 May

Have you ever kissed someone who wasn’t really that into you? It feels awful. You can smell it on them. You can feel their lack of enthusiasm on your lips and skin.

In bed there’s nowhere to hide how you feel about someone. Good, bad or ugly. Your love, apathy, possessiveness, whatever it is, it descends on your partner like a perfumed cloud, making itself known.

I’m an independent, confident woman. And in my experience “independent” and “lesbian” look suspiciously similar. I’ve been approached by women for a long time. Or by the boyfriends of bi women, insistent that I’m the perfect unicorn. From a young age my mother encouraged me to explore whatever those experiences might hold for me, insisting that I would have a great time.

And I’ve dutifully kissed a few women over the years, mostly during games of spin the bottle or at the insistence of some very attractive boyfriend, mere inches away.

And I’m struck by the same feeling every time.

That I’m doing, working, trying. It’s not coming easily or naturally. I’m not reacting with someone. We aren’t musicians playing off each other, listening to each other. I’m acting upon. I’m pen in hand and she is the paper.

I’m that jerk who made me feel unbeautiful, unspecial, unsexy. Merely by not being interested in me and going through the motions anyway.

And all this is coupled with the feeling I get every time someone convinces me to try eggplant again.

Oh right, I don’t like eggplant because it still tastes and feels like eggplant.

It’s not that I’ll never enjoy an eggplant. But maybe I shouldn’t try any until I’m really excited about one.

Bar Raised

2 May

I did a really excellent thing the other day.

I ended a relationship.

Well, I think in the future we’ll agree that I just called out our friendship as the friendship that it is and cancelled the romantic effort we had layered on top of it.

I saw this post today and fell in love with it.

This last relationship taught me what it feels like to be cared for like this.

I’m so grateful for it.

Last night I was talking to a friend about this experience.

I told her that it was a hard decision to make because this guy was so caring, he’s such a wonderful partner in a way I’ve never felt from a person I was dating before.

She made me feel so wonderful about it.

She said that’s exactly what dating is for. You meet people and learn from them what you need and what you can’t stand. And then you know to look for those things in the future. You can learn how you need to be treated from your relationship with Tom, what you’re attracted to from Dick and what you can’t live without from Harry. Then you find someone who has enough of those things to be your partner.

So I consider this whole thing a huge success.

Because now I know what it feels like to be looked at like this. And that bar is raised forever.

Crying Can Be Easy

13 Apr

A few months ago I cried in front of a guy. It was after I learned how to cry properly so I did it. I just let the tears fall down my face. I didn’t will them not to come and end up with a horrible headache, I just allowed them to be. 

He saw them and asked if he could wipe them away. 

No. They’re mine. I put them there.

I’m sure that at the time I just didn’t want to be touched but the words fell out. And saying it, I felt it, I took another step towards being unembarrassed about being a person who cries sometimes.

He said it was the saddest and most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

Which I suppose was a nice byproduct.

It happened again tonight, I cried in front of someone. In public, on a train. I didn’t wipe any of it away, I just looked straight forward and relaxed the muscles in my face and let tears come out of my eyes.

I didn’t even really notice how it felt in my eyes. I was distracted by the way it felt on my cheeks. Like some sort of upended water torture, relaxing instead of… torture. A tear tracking it’s way from my eye to my lip, coaxing me to form words. A tiny droplet, my eye telling me to open up my mouth and do something about the problem.

I couldn’t help but think of that line from Assassins. 

I did it so I’d know where I was coming from. So I’d have some place to come from, some place to go.

I left the little salty track as a reminder of where the feeling had come from and where I had to go.