They began to talk like friends, like they weren’t just strangers that met through a dating app. They could no longer see each other as just a body after that.
The way you were unhinged me/And I haven’t pieced myself back together since
I get scared that I can’t authentically call myself an empowered woman if I need a man for this. I shouldn’t need anyone, especially for something concerning my own body.
Taking a sexual Snapchat isn’t easy. This isn’t taking a picture of snow or a cappuccino or a drunken duck face selfie. This is capturing your freak flag. Like boom, there it is.
I put my head back down on the pillow as my eyes began to drift closed. Just as darkness fell, I could’ve sworn I saw someone step out of the bathroom, but it was too late to see his face.
“I am still disgusted with myself over this and have never told a soul but here it goes…”
I’m not the sick girl. I never was. I live with an illness. I was very sick at one point, but it was never who I was.
Every time he walks by me in the apartment he grabs me like I’m his and he has to have me.
More sex. Luckily, modern dating has taught us there’s an app for that, or a simple three letter text message, ‘U up?’
“Just women who like to take control. Not bondage, but where they know what they want and will take it. If this includes certain, um, strapped on things or not is cool with me.”