November 2013

The only destruction I hope to do is situational, welcome, perhaps metaphorical.

Fucking has never come naturally to me — it requires an aggression I’ve long kept at bay. Lately, though, something’s shifting.

Julia Sweeney has “The Talk” with her daughter. It does not go well.

The heaven of the thirty-three, reimagined.

A fantasy I was asked to write. As fantasies go, it’s pretty… direct.

I envied Liza — her writing, her sex life, her success, her followers — and I couldn’t stop comparing myself to her.

I can’t look away from her legs.

The sting of rejection is a gift I’d never get if I were monogamous. I’m not sure I’d call it a gift I *want*, but it’s one I need.

So many sex blogs burn bright and fast, then vanish. A shout-out to the ones I loved and lost.

I press the bar again. And again. And again.