Danielle Campoamor

That glowing woman who lovingly rubs her belly as she flawlessly glides around her home and effortlessly completes day-to-day tasks? Yeah, she doesn’t exist.

It’s not because you have daddy issues or masochistic tendencies or lingering pains of an abusive childhood.

I’ll constantly crave a safe distance and crippled time and a policed speed.

There’s the kind you have in the morning with sleep in your eyes and lust in your veins.

Will we eventually sink into the molasses of romantic stability?

They come in all shapes and sizes, colors and heights, mental and physical states. When the arguments have ceased and the harsh words have settled, your once coveted significant other will transform.

Leave the sexual games and unending power struggles for those actually trying to date. This is sex, boys and girls, and it should be as easy as a buffet.

There’s the kind that’ll leave you wanting.

Don’t believe it. Your stubborn rejection of reality will give your body enough time to adjust accordingly.

Enjoy having too much. Too much Jack Daniels. Too much love. Too much dancing. Too much work. Too much procrastination. Too much time. Too much responsibility. Too much insecurity. Too much coffee. Too much doubt. Too much of not enough.

While they appreciate a little effort, they don’t want the morning after to become a twisted game of Chatroulette. Let them know what they’re getting: the real you.

Thank you for arguing with me. You taught me the correct way to disagree, as well as the incorrect way.