Charlotte Green

It has been so long since you last had sex that neither of you are really willing to bring up the subject because you both know the discussion is going to be extremely embarrassing and awkward.

You spend several hours extra getting ready — possibly even buying new clothes — when you know that there is a chance you might see them tonight.

There is also the familiarity. It becomes like a kind of drug, something you can’t take big enough hits of when you are looking for something, anything, to make sense to you.

You show that you have not been beaten into a patriarchal pulp by all of these ridiculous expectations that you don’t show how you actually feel.

And we are afraid to be open with this need, with this passion, because we don’t want to lose you. That is really the crux of it.

Something truly ugly happens in people when we feel that we’re losing something we love, something that we put in the work for and cared for, such as our significant other.

I don’t care if he’s bringing home the foreskin. I don’t care about any of this because we are not obsessed as a culture with making sure men’s bits look like something made for a Bratz doll.

Overhearing incredibly thin girls talk about how fat they feel, even though you are clearly twice their size and within earshot.

Because I’m afraid you’ll ask me for the sweater back which I have strategically stolen. But you can’t be mad at me for this; it fits perfectly and keeps me extremely warm on the semi-frequent nights where my heater doesn’t work.

Do not force them to engage in constant activities which you believe will make them a more “well-rounded” person.

You constantly bum cigarettes off of people while out drinking yet claim that you “don’t smoke.”

I was not lucky to have you. I was not chosen by some divine spirit who looked past my physical flaws to gift me with your half-hearted attention.