Calling 420 day (April 20th) a holiday is kind of like saying Flamin Cheetos are an actual food. It sounds nice in theory, but it gets a little dicey when you start looking at the particulars.
Did I do it for Allah? No.
It’s not something I’ve done before or will ever do again. I’ve been happily married for five years and the sex with my wife is great, I just gave into an impulse. It’s something I wish I could take back, but it’s done.
“There are favors on the island,” he jutted his chin towards the kitchen. Turing away from the door-from me-he headed towards what I assumed was the bedroom.
I’ve become what every parent fears when they realize you’re a girl. Is my baby going to become a whore?
No, I don’t mean he’s perfect in the sense that he’s perfect for me.
I remember saying “You won’t understand, no one understands, no one I know has had to go through this.”
I have a story I need to tell. It’s a hard start considering I haven’t flexed my creative muscle in a while, but more than that, it is a hard story to tell.
A few hours later I met with the crazy doctor. He asked me why I was there. Umm, I don’t know, doc. Probably because I tried to kill myself and my well-meaning best friend dragged my ass to the ER.
My friend isn’t good about safe sex, but she isn’t bad about it, either. Not really bad. She’s just normal, I guess, at least from what she’s told me and from what I can tell.