Letter From The Modern-Day Courtesans

Greetings, gentlemen. I am here as a representative of the women you still feel torn about. We are the women who, when we gave you a bit of our flashing eye, our masterful pursed lip, made you feel momentarily like you were the regent of our great universe. We hope that you loved it.

You, of course, referred to Us to all of your friends as ‘that crazy girl.’ This, we knew. Yet privately we thought well of you anyway; we saw you as no one else has yet seen you. As a truly powerful creature who was broken for a moment. We saw in you both greatness and vulnerability, and we adored you.

Darling, we adored you.

Of course, when you said ‘crazy,’ what you meant was ‘hot.’ We made you feel crazy. We do wield our sexuality like a weapon against which you have always been helpless; we, with our wild hair, our manic ways, our dazzling magic. When you met us you sucked into your inert and sorrowful lungs a breath of what could have been, what you had always wanted. And we, with our tender hands (nail polish chipped, of course, the better to lend you toward writing poetry about our imperfections later) nurtured you gently toward it. Toward what? The better you, of course, the fiction of what you thought you should have had, should have been.

We have never appeared at a time that is convenient for you. We are sorry. We have preferred to hit you like a cosmic meteor, when you were not expecting it. You will always remember the first time that you saw us in flesh; you will recount to us later how much you wanted us then, and how sweet we seemed. How you did not know what you were getting into with Us.

Thank goodness we came along, though. We, with our black nails, our strange hair, and our luscious mouths, the ones you had admired guiltily in our pictures without wanting your girlfriends, your wives, to know. We are the women that tended and inspired you. We were ‘there.’ When you could talk to no-one else, we were ‘there.’ You didn’t know what you would have done otherwise.

We loved you. We asked for nothing back. You seemed so strong from far away, and then we approached you and we realized you were weak and needful. And then we loved you anyway. Oh, how we loved you. We understood you deeply. We knew how much you needed us. We made ourselves available.

You felt uninspired. You felt trapped. You felt alone, and most of all you felt frustrated, and there we were. Available.

We, your courtesans. We knew ‘your situation.’ We asked for nothing. We just wanted to know you. We just wanted to know you. We listened. We knew things about you that you could not tell Her. We comforted you and understood you in all the days that escaped her capacity or her willingness. We were the ones you texted at midnight. We were the ones you Facebook-chatted from work.

We were Just Friends, of course. We were your friend, your gorgeous and witching and red-lipped Friend. We didn’t ‘expect’ anything; we, you said, ought not to have expected anything, even on the night that you wept in our laps before you made love to us in our very own beds.

We loved you. We loved you so hard. And you knew it. You knew it right away.

And you needed it. You needed to feel valued. You needed validation. You were broken and without direction, and so we told you that you are good. You were tangled and without escape, and so to you we spoke rationally, we said ‘this is the way out.’ From us you had succor, you were assuaged, you felt stronger. In time you came to admire us as much as we admired you.

We didn’t want anything ‘back’; we did not ask for anything back. We told you that. You were aware that we had a number of casual partners and you were just one of them. It was not an issue. We are lighthearted, fear not. We just had so much love to give, we always have so much love to give.

Dear boy, (you were a man from far away and a boy up close). Dear Boy: When you had nothing we took care of you. We, with our electric hair and the unexplored and downy-soft, mysterious desert of our skin, we made you feel special – more than special. Like you had slipped into a land that was made for only you.

Here’s a secret: It was made for only you. We loved you so, so hard. You knew, and that’s why you took us home. Because everyone else wanted us, but we chose you. We chose you, and look how proud you were.

But we would not call you, nor text unsolicited. We would wait for you to message us. We got it; you were ‘going through a hard time right now.’ The intrusion of our presence was ‘confusing.’ We did not want to confuse you. You explained to us precisely where You Are At and we shouldered, like an ancient cape, the mantle of understanding. We have assumed responsibility; we are responsible for you. You told us How It Was. We were responsible and we were understanding and so we asked for nothing. We would never trouble you. We are here to help, not complicate Things. We know you. It’s for you; it’s okay, it’s okay.

We would not burden you with such minor things as our ‘needs.’  We ‘knew what we were getting into.’ Despite the fact that we have made love to you, numerous times, passionately and with full intention when no one else would, when even the Royal She would not, we have refused to darken your difficult and transient doorstep with our selfish ‘needs.’ You have asked for our understanding. We are trying to help you. We know better. We know better.

When you call on us, we will be there. This ‘situation’ operates under your terms. We are the ones you reach out to when you are in your most expansive desert of desperation; when there is no one else, there is us. You have asked us for patience and we donate it as generously as our blood. We are ‘here for you.’ We can ‘listen.’ You can call anytime. You can come over. We will care for you.

And we’ll do it so well. It is better with us than it ever was with Her and we know this because you told us more than once. We suspect you’ve told us this just because you fear we will tire of loving you, but deep down inside you know the thing we both do – we will never tire of it. Love is a malleable thing. You do not need to be our ‘partner.’ We know you ‘can’t give us anything.’ We will ‘always be friends.’ We love you, love is just a pure word, we love you, we love you.

When you let us know, evasively and in vague language as is your fucking way, that things are better now with Her, we understand. We knew what we were getting into; we knew, we understand. It’s what we wanted all along, we wanted the best for you. That’s what we hoped for, you know; we hope with all our hearts that you will find happiness as you leave us behind as just another fucking phase in your ‘personal growth process.’

Poor thing. You are still so confused. When you rise in the morning and you feel uncertain, you recall that you are desired by a beautiful woman and hold it dear, like a weapon against the private wars you wage versus your inadequate partner and your unfulfilled potential. We are glad we have given you that, we are so glad.

When we see Her we will hug her. We really have no problem with Her, really. She’s a nice girl. She’s just right for you, we understand how much you fundamentally love one another. We get it. She doesn’t know, poor thing. She is owed our sympathy. We will buy her a drink, because we make more money than that dumb and docile cunt does, and because you are too busy looking at us to realize She wants a drink. You told us nothing was Her fault, and so we make a magnanimous effort not to hold it against Her. We buy Her another drink.

It’s not her fault. It’s not our fault. It’s nobody’s fault. Isn’t it lovely how everything is all right, and nobody has sung a note out of tune?

You will do us the quintessential indignity. You will take us aside and you will ask, ‘are you okay.’

And we will smile fondly toward you, and we will say, with oblivious candor, ‘yes, of course, why not?’ We might even laugh a little. Because we knew what we were getting into. We knew all along. Of course we are Okay. And if by some miracle we were not, you would furrow your brow. You would become a little angry, or a little distant. We were the ones that should have known better. Uh oh, we dare not be anything other than completely and totally fucking Okay, in the face of all your problems and your needs and Hers. Sorry, we’re so sorry, no, nothing’s wrong.

You will feel stronger because of us. You will feel like a better man. You will tell us, half-drunk and in the bar’s smoking alley later, about all the things we have done for you and how good we have made you feel. We helped. You will thank us. You will go on at length about how fantastic we are, and how much we deserve. You are so grateful. We are such a wonderful woman. Someone is gonna love us like crazy one day, you tell us.

We’ll look in your eyes and we’ll see how bad you still want to fuck us and how easy we could take you home if we just decided to lay it on just a little bit. You are faithless.

We will tell you everything’s all right. We will assure you that we are still friends. We have known it all the while, that this is how we were meant to end up. We knew. We knew. We’ll text you two weeks later about how we’re coming to your event to support you and you won’t answer. We’ll text you three weeks later about would you like to do that thing together you said you wanted to do, and you will tell us that things are Complicated, as things are always Complicated with you, and how you’d like to but you really just ‘can’t.’

It’s okay, we’ll tell you. We’re still friends. When we have an event of our own to which we’d like you to come you will be busy and you’ll really want to’ve made it and we will understand. Because, as we’ve told you a million times, we knew up front what we were getting into. Because you’ve been so honest all the while, because if there is anything our friendship has going for it it’s that we have always been so fucking honest with each other. We are such good friends.

You will see us somewhere in passing and then later you will text us about how it was nice to see us. How we looked so beautiful. As if it was for you.

We want to write ‘fuck you.’ We want to write, ‘enjoy that mousy bitch who is less intelligent, less attractive, less interesting, less devoted and less of everything-fucking-everything than we are.’

But we write, ‘thanks :D it was nice to see you too,’ because we know we have given away our right to have a fucking dog in this fight. We knew what we were getting into. You need your space now. We ought to respect that. We ought not to burden you now that you are Happy Again. We understood your needs better than anyone, right? And that is why we must leave you alone now. We cannot ask you for anything. You are having a Tough Time. We should respect that. We shouldn’t complicate your lives further with our presence.

Dear Boy: On behalf of all of us, we hope you are happy forever with that less-everything-than-us broad that you chose because she did not frighten you as much as we did.

However, and here’s the thing we were lying about when we said I’m sorry-I’m-so-sorry: We are not, actually, sorry that we called you when you were with her. We are not sorry that we loved you just enough that you felt ready to go back to her, that we helped you Find Yourself so that you were able to Go Home.

We are absolutely not sorry that we expect to be remembered. And we are not sorry for the knife-stab you feel in your chest once you realize we do not want to be your ‘friend’ anymore. We aren’t sorry for how you feel when you learn we have told your friends everything, and they look at you like they’re a little repulsed. You are telling them about how crazy we are, and they will never tell you that you lost, Boy. You lost.

Dear Boy: We are the women you will remember in twenty years. In forty. We are the women that will still give you hard-ons on your deathbed. We loved you. And you can remember that, and maybe it’ll make you feel a little bit better about yourself. It always has, right? Wasn’t that what we were for, what our loving the hell out of you was for?

Look up our photograph, just as we are right now. Think to yourself, “I hit that.”

“I hit that.”

Yes, you did, Boy, dear Boy. That’s really what we were for, right? We are, of course, right. We have always been right. We will always be right, and we will always be okay. As for you, we are still – as we have always done – wishing you the best of luck.

Love,

Your Courtesans TC mark

image – iStockPhoto

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  • Bethany

    if the courtesans are so “strong,” why don't they have the strength to tell the guy all of this?

    • Jordan

      I think you gotta take this piece in the context of the sentiment about 75% down, not at the beginning. My interpretation is part of the courtesan is strong and knows what she's getting into (the first half of the essay), but that's a veneer. They know that they're being used but they have no recourse to show their anger, lest they seem like the crazy girl who flipped out even the guy was being honest; they were told up front… There's a veneer of distance and understanding but there are true emotions being stirred up, almost the least of which is 'strength.'

      Having been the guy who was being honest and felt the subsequent guilt of knowing that someone's emotions had been stirred (unintentionally), this is a really good piece. At 24 I learned a good lesson about intimacy and the power of sex, and this article kinda sums it up.

      • http://profiles.google.com/bigboy44110 Isaiah Taylor

        Hmm, but being that the courtesan acknowledged that THEY TOO were “aware that we had a number of casual partners and you were just one of them.”

        How does either party begin to feel invested for the other on a deeper level when that is stated from the onset? I've passed up opportunities with the HOPE of just one day, she would leave Him. And we later admitted I was the fool [which this article isn't arguing, thankfully].

        It's understandable that one would feel more than the other, because in a situation like this…someone subtly 'names their price' and when it gets to high, “Boom!” gone. Relationship over.

        I guess I don't understand male cheating because I've never done it [this isn't horn-tooting because me writing this proves that I'm still interested in it]. I've only been around for the assist.

      • a dude

        If I'm understanding correctly, you definitely did the right thing passing up that opportunity. I reckon it is definitely possible to develop very strong feelings for another in this situation, but the lesson is that it's a bad idea to purposely nurture these feelings. If you do that you're way more likely to cause people misery and end up an emotional mess. I can't help but feel the piece glorifies this sort of decision making.

      • a dude

        this helped me make a lot more sense of this, cheers.

    • http://profiles.google.com/amaviena Amanda Viers

      “We, your courtesans. We knew ‘your situation.’ We asked for nothing. We just wanted to know you. We just wanted to know you. We listened. We knew things about you that you could not tell Her. We comforted you and understood you in all the days that escaped her capacity or her willingness.”

      We asked for nothing.

      It's not about her, it's about him. It's not about 'us,' it's about 'them.'

      • ricky sccchitliyz

        if you asked for nothing then why are you so pissed about what he didn't give you?

      • http://profiles.google.com/amaviena Amanda Viers

        broken record.

  • brononymous

    I don't 'get' it

  • Ford Tennis

    If you don't see vindictiveness as a liability, are you truly free?

  • none

    if you don't 'get it' then you haven't been there. if you 'get it' it hits too close to home. amazing.

    • a dude

      I prefer it when a piece of writing does not require me to have “been there”.

  • Icantreadthismuch

    what is this i don't even

  • ehh

    Kinda sound like an asshole.

  • chelidon

    Wow. This is one of the more powerful pieces of writing I have seen for a while. Vivid, raw, barbed, beautiful, tragic and triumphant, all at the same time. Dang.

    • http://www.facebook.com/wingedthing Leigh Alexander

      thanks. i appreciate that.

  • Gmhughes88

    This is fucking brilliant.

  • alternatekev

    Incredible.

  • http://twitter.com/rhodeislander rhodeislander

    Dear girl with body image and daddy issues:

    Yeah. Right. We hit it. We may have shared one thing one time. Don't let it go to your fucking head.

    Kisses,

    That Guy

    • zz

      asshole…

    • http://profiles.google.com/amaviena Amanda Viers

      dickwad.

    • Williamdorcia

      Dear “flashing eye” and “masterful[y] pursed lip” narrator,

      You're not nearly as attractive as you think you are. Why else would we have always been with “Her”? Here's what you missed: You're fuckable. You were easy. But you're not a keeper. I left with an amazing fuck memory. You left a bitch.

      That guy

      This was really well written and very provocative by the way. Loved it.

      • gg

        This narrator is me. Thanks for the wake up call.

  • optional

    toooo real

  • AaronWB

    I really like this. Just found it thrilling from start to finish. There is so much “story” packed into this despite the fact there is not really any conventional “story.” Does that make sense?

  • http://profiles.google.com/amaviena Amanda Viers

    In retrospect, he'll never lose you–he'll always have you. Wet dream, sideways craving of past diluted desires. I had one such him. I loved him with more feeling that I've ever felt before. And I expected nothing. And that mousy cunt should have had him forever…Because she was his, and he–he was hers. I remember the taste of his skin and incense intoxicating me.
    I don't expect to experience anything quite like this ever again. This letter was so exact…
    You did a wonderful job. Thank you so much.

    • ricky sccchitliyz

      if you expected nothing then why're you mad? your comment is a bit dumb bitch status, you pretty much suck so i expect that guy was probably only attractive one you slammed and since then you have been hung up on him and try to make yourself feel better by pretending he has wet dreams about you… naw…

      • riles

        “a bit dumb bitch status” “you pretty much suck”

        Grow up.

      • http://profiles.google.com/amaviena Amanda Viers

        Have you experienced anything at all? Welcome to the real world. I guess in the real world we don't want things we can not have. “Pretty much suck?” Like a fucking vacuum. “Only attractive one you slammed?” I don't recall “slamm[ing] anyone. I don't have to make myself feel better–the experience was epic and I'll never regret it.

  • 27sandgranola

    This is really awkward considering my ex cheated on me with a girl who frequently went after men in relationships. And some other girls.
    I kind of hate you, but I've been THAT girl so I also kind of love this.

  • zz

    its weird how related i feel to this, especially since im a guy, and she was a girl who had troubles with her boyfriend

  • http://disrespectfultone.blogspot.com/ Daniel Schealler

    I've never been with That Girl – but I've come close a few times.

    A couple of my mates have been with That Girl as well. It always makes me uncomfortable.

    They go in, even though all the 'crazy' signs are there from the get-go. Then they get all surprised when things go south.

    Meanwhile, That Girl just gets even crazy-er for her efforts… And I get all troubled.

    On the one hand, I don't want to place That Girl under a pedestal. I don't want to consider that she's a passive, weak, or frail non-agent in life, being helplessly swept up and along by men who use her.

    Yet also… There's the stench of exploitation. That Guy – my friend – he knew getting into it that That Girl wasn't Quite Right. I've been there, I've had the offer, I understand the temptation. It could have been so easy, I know it could have been so easy, because I knew That Girl wasn't Quite Right. So did you. You knew That Girl would try so very hard to please, that you would be so very (and easily) pleased while you allowed it to last. And then, when you tire of it, you'll just cut off ties and move on. Clean for you – she can sort herself out, right? Well… No. Not right. If That Girl was All Right, if she was legitimately your equal in terms of needs, wants, and emotional resiliency? Sure. Maybe. But let's face it. She's not. You know she's not. Because if she was, this wouldn't be all happening in your favor right now, would it? All is not so perfectly equitable here as you make out, my friend – so don't get too high and mighty with me now that it's all turned to custard around your ears.

    Yet also… Seriously, girl? You did All That under Those Circumstances and now you complain about how it went? Because, although the point remains a callous one to make, it also remains true: You did know what you were Getting Yourself Into. You're not a fool either – so you knew how it was probably going to turn out. You could have said no. You made the choice to say yes. Yet now you're upset and angry and complain? What? You think you're so special that you don't have to wear the consequences for your own actions? You think that if you, with full understanding, run into a pothole and twist your ankle, That Guy will come galloping in on his white charger to scoop you up and carry you off into the sunset? That was never how it was going to go, and you knew it. So why did you do it, if you didn't want this?

    All three positions knot up together, and I don't know what to make of it.

    • http://profiles.google.com/amaviena Amanda Viers

      um…riiiiiight.

      • http://disrespectfultone.blogspot.com/ Daniel Schealler

        If you've got an opinion, please give it.

      • ricky sccchitliyz

        yea ugh you kind of suck, if you're gonna say something say it what a fugly bitch

      • http://www.facebook.com/wingedthing Leigh Alexander

        what are you like 18

        please do not call the women who comment on this site 'fugly bitch', it makes you look really sad

      • http://www.facebook.com/wingedthing Leigh Alexander

        also yes: conflict intentional, hence that we're discussing it makes me pleased

      • ricky sccchitliyz

        whoops accidentally liked your comment. anyhow i'm pretty happy. amanda viers is just busted and it skews her perception of her/your situation

      • http://profiles.google.com/amaviena Amanda Viers

        busted? seriously? I thought your lack of understanding was interesting.

      • http://disrespectfultone.blogspot.com/ Daniel Schealler

        Oh piss off.

        I'm legitimately conflicted about what's going on in this article. Maybe I'm being a jerk in that conflict, but I'm trying not to be.

        But even if it turns out that I am being a jerk, I still I don't need an unrepentant jerk to speak for me.

  • http://profiles.google.com/bigboy44110 Isaiah Taylor

    I just swapped out Boy with Girl and Her with Him…completely related.

  • Halo_Override

    Stunning writing. (And on Dale Cooper's birthday, to boot.)

    • Halo_Override

      (Every courtesan deserves to finally end up with a Cooper, if she wants one. A pre-bathroom Cooper, I mean.)

  • Catt

    As the “mousy girl” who was “less-everything-than-[you]”, this article made me want to cry. I wish to God I could be like this, instead of the one who isn't intimidating in the least.

    • http://www.facebook.com/wingedthing Leigh Alexander

      sigh. grass is always greener, or something. <3

      • Archally

        Mousy girl, you will always win. Buck up.

      • http://profiles.google.com/mopeyprincess mopey P

        it made me sad because it's the douchebag's fault for putting you in the position to hate on the mousy girl. we shouldn't hate on the mousy girl, right? You don't have to like, be her best friend and hang out, but the fact she's with that asshole doesn't make her a cunt.

        I spent too much time thinking/talking shit about the mousy woman in my unavailable-man's life until I realized he–not she–deserved all of my scorn and then some.

        (I realize we could theoretically have a gender role reversal and have a male courtesan and a cheaty woman with a mousy man to return to, but c'mon..)

    • Scorned

      Oh, for fuck’s sake. Don’t you get it? Your type has always won. Your type will always win. On valentine’s day, you’ll get a date and chocolate, or perhaps jewelry. We will get red wine and a text message from him while you’re in the ladies’ room.  Your type will have fat, adorable babies to bounce on your knees. Our type will have abortions.

      Just shut up and enjoy it.

  • ricky sccchitliyz

    article started out with promise
    some points of good writing. but you start to contradict yourself and it comes out as a mess of anger and loses coherence… you end up sounding like kind of a bitch,
    sorry better luck next time

    • http://www.facebook.com/wingedthing Leigh Alexander

      uhhh it's called a truthful self-examination and/or factual narrative arc

      it's quite like a man to want a tidy, admirable ending

      • ricky sccchitliyz

        how do u know i am a man, my last name is the onamanapatapeoa of a woman masturbating

      • Adam Redsell

        ^ That's how ;-)

      • ZaneEatsWorld

        Leigh Alexander doesn't take shit from no one.

  • coffeeandinternets

    We want to write ‘fuck you.’ We want to write, ‘enjoy that mousy bitch who is less intelligent, less attractive, less interesting, less devoted and less of everything-fucking-everything than we are.’

    As someone feeling the sting of this particular emotion right now, it is a small consolation that I'm not the only one — very nice writing.

  • ricky sccchitliyz

    if you asked for nothing then why are you so pissed about what he didn't give you?

    • http://disrespectfultone.blogspot.com/ Daniel Schealler

      Because emotions don't work that way.

      • ricky sccchitliyz

        damn thats good excuse guy, can i abort my crack baby because of emotions?
        can i get off scott-free from a 5-year prison sentence for killing a child while drunk, because of emotions?
        what other decisions can i be absolved of all responsbility for by using my 'emotions'???

      • http://disrespectfultone.blogspot.com/ Daniel Schealler

        Just because she asked for nothing, doesn't mean that she didn't want something, doesn't mean that she didn't deserve something, and it doesn't mean that she isn't justified in being pissed off for not getting something.

        That doesn't mean that the situation isn't fucked up on both sides – because it is. It's daft to get into that situation in the first place when it's pretty obvious from the get go that you're only going to get hurt in the end. But it's also utterly unfair to get used that way regardless of the decisions you make, and totally justified to get pissed off about being used in that way.

      • http://www.facebook.com/wingedthing Leigh Alexander

        right, i mean, the narrative actually was intentionally personally-transparent enough so as to avoid statements on whether one or the other party is 'correct', as obvs neither are

      • Adam Redsell

        I liked it. It wasn't really committing one way or the other (much like the man in the narrative) – it just was.

      • ricky sccchitliyz

        realistically she didn't get 'used' if he was honest up front.
        also she deserved something? frankly if you are 'that girl' you don't really deserve anything more than what is outlined in this article

      • http://disrespectfultone.blogspot.com/ Daniel Schealler

        Even if you let yourself be used, you're still being used.

        That's not to say that being used is always a bad thing – but in this context it is.

      • ricky sccchitliyz

        but if you let it happen do you have much grounds to be mad at anyone but yourself?

      • http://disrespectfultone.blogspot.com/ Daniel Schealler

        DNFTT.

      • ricky schitltiiz

        pretty uninspired response. as i've said in other articles, trolling has become a convenient excuse for people to avoid criticism

      • http://disrespectfultone.blogspot.com/ Daniel Schealler

        *groan*

        Okay. Fine.

        My rationale:

        I've made several different points, coming at your comments from several different angles, in an attempt to push the same two basic themes:

        1) Asking whether someone has 'grounds' to be mad implies that emotion (anger) is founded upon reason – which it isn't. That's not how emotion works.
        2) Just because someone gives consent to being used, that doesn't mean they don't have the right to get angry about it later.

        However, you keep ignoring these points and repeating the same question, over and over and over again. This fits the standard pattern of troll behavior. I got tired of repeating myself, so I decided to stop.

        So, one final time:

        Firstly, emotions aren't founded on grounds or reasons. Expressing an emotion you sincerely feel is not an act that requires justification in any way. If you feel it, you're entitled to express it.

        Secondly, even if you consent to being used, you still have some legitimate grounds of complaint against the person who used you. Because, well, you were being used. That remains a legitimate justification for complaint.

        Consent in this context isn't entirely meaningless – but it's not the end of the story either. Getting someone to consent to being used doesn't mean that the user can abdicate all responsibility for doing the using. The user needs to wear the consequences of their actions too, regardless of the whether or not the person used consented at the beginning.

      • coffeeandinternets

        I didn't know that being frustrated about a romantic situation was like killing kids and aborting crack babies (not that you, as a guy, could ever even have an abortion and I mean yes women CAN abort whatever the fuck kind of baby they want to )…I gotta go rethink this

  • Dolores

    Mainly this makes me glad I didn't fuck him when he was broken down on my bed at midnight while She was out of town. But I wanted to.

    • http://www.facebook.com/wingedthing Leigh Alexander

      good girl.

      • Quietly Disappeared

        I sent this to my “Boy” in hopes that he'll realize my failure to reply to his text messages is in no way accidental. This courtesan is cashed out. I'm happy, I never slept with him too. I think that's the best feeling. The feeling that he never won.

  • ricky sccchitliyz

    ay yo leigh alexander… this is the second time this has happened
    i read an article and disliked it, then proceeded to check out their article history and realized they had written many articles that i had previously enjoyed

    your cultural studies of internet culture are well done. some of the best ones on that topic written on this site [although to be fair i can't think of other writers who regularly post about that here]. i feel that you tried to write a deeply personal piece about your emotions and it fell short. that's ok. the only writers here who i can think of who have done that satisfactorly are oconnell, gorrell, the guy who wrote standing in love for 11 years, and uhh fuck there's 1 or 2 more i forget, thought catalog needs a better indexing system what with the increasing rate of posting.

    yall

  • ZaneEatsWorld

    “We are the women that will still give you hard-ons on your deathbed.”

    I feel sorry for the mortician.

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