Sometimes, thick clouds roll in like doubts, and the god-like giants are obscured to the point where I almost swear they never existed. Other days, there’s no questioning their presence.
I remember my husband, when I asked once why things couldn’t be easy, the way they used to be, saying, bitterly and through clenched teeth, “It was never easy.”
My first gynecologist tells me that my vagina is on the smaller side of the normal range. I use this as a justification for why, at eighteen, I still can’t get a tampon in more than a quarter of an inch past my hymen.
BDSM, like writing, can be so self-serious. By letting go of my formal commitment to both, I found ways to release my expectations, and as a result, let them back into my life in healthier and more fulfilling ways.
Valentine’s Day, the annual celebration of romance, named after a martyred saint who doesn’t have anything to do with love, is almost here. In recognition of the holiday, The Cut…