HER Veracity

Would you give him the shaft? sk I met an amazing guy. He was super sweet, honest, and kind. He was great looking, an amazing kisser, with a butt you could bounce a quarter off of. Our values were aligned; we wanted the same things in life. He had his shit together- had a great job and his own home. He was really, really into me. He just had one teeny, tiny problem. Being the sweet man he is, we went on five dates before we ever made it to the bedroom. He was the perfect gentleman. When we did finally get horizontal, it didn’t take me long (no pun intended) to discover that he was deficient in the dick department. Now, I’m not overly picky about a man's downstairs. I’ve been with men who are average- or even below average- when it comes to penis size. I’d hate to exclude a man from my life over something he can’t control. I’d never encountered a situation like this. I’d always told myself that if I did encounter a man with a tiny penis, I would give him...

I Killed my Boyfriend (wait for it…)

I killed my boyfriend. It’s true. Over and over… Florent Chretien Every night I killed my boyfriend in my sleep . I know- insert expressive eyebrows here. But I think a lot of women do it, and don’t want to admit it. Let me explain. I loved my boyfriend, for a time. We were together for seven years before our inevitable end. For a long time, I truly believed he was the one I would spend the rest of my life with. He was my forever. So why did I kill him every night? I'm going to talk about something women don't talk about too often- fantasy. Scary! Firstly, I didn’t fantasize about murdering my boyfriend. That’s too messy. But I did fantasize about being with other men- at night lying in bed waiting to fall asleep, or while he was snoring away on the couch while I contemplated our sexless relationship. Deep down I wasn’t happy, I wanted something different- someone different. But I have too much damn integrity to cheat on my partner, even in my wilde...

I haven't had sex in a year (pandemic problems)

Covid-19 is spreading everything but my legs Despite all this talk about droplets, my sex life has been remarkably dry. Pre-Covid- yes, that's how I define the world now; pre and post-Covid- I was in the process of moving to the city. Single and excited for the prospect of a booming social life and a chance to meet someone new, I decided to stop dating until after I moved. I was blissfully ignorant of the encroaching pandemic. I went six months without sex and I was okay. I was empowered in my choice. I was saving myself for brighter horizons. Six months was a long time for me, but it was fine because it was only temporary. Pre-Covid me was so optimistic. Post-Covid me is extremely jaded. This pandemic has held my sex life hostage. In fact, my vagina is on more of a lockdown than the rest of my body. At least I can get a latte (take-out) while downstairs has not been allowed to come upstairs for a long time. How long? A year and a half- it will be two years in September. Fuck me! L...

How a date with a millionaire boosted my confidence (not in the way you think)

What is the cost of settling? After subjecting myself to a string of men who didn't appreciate me, I was asked on a date by a millionaire. The good kind of millionaire; the millionaire philanthropist. Not the millionaire capitalist. He was nominated for a do-gooder award and flying in for one night. Although we didn't know each other personally, we worked in similar industries and a series of unexpected circumstances lead to him asking me to join him at the award gala. I'll never forget my trip to meet him in the 5-star hotel where he was staying, a hotel with the highest ceilings I'd ever seen and marble floors that reflected back to me the face of a country girl dipping her toes into the big city. He liked that about me. I had the appearance of being wholesome. On my way, I looked up at the sky and there was a rainbow. No lie. Light refracting excitement into the sky, a spectrum of colour. I wore a sequin dress from Nordstrom Rack- nude. The colour of foreshadowing....

My date from Hell and how it cost me my best friend

You think you know how this story ends, but you don't… I met a guy through my best friend. Stories that start that way never end well. He was in a band she’d recently joined and she was elated about it. I lived in the country and she lived in the city. I visited her one weekend and we dressed like thirst-traps and had a hilarious drunken night on the town. We planned a beach day the next morning but we were off to a slow start. We laid in bed watching last night's Snapchats , laughing so loud the walls vibrated. As we relived our shenanigans, her bandmate kept texting her. He insisted on coming to the beach, likely watching the same sexy Snaps we were. He met us at the beach. I wasn’t very social; I was nauseous and hangry. That didn’t matter to him because I was in a bikini. He wanted us to come to his place that night but we decided on dinner at my friend's house. At dinner, he drilled me with personal questions. I suspected he was interested in me and was clear I just ...

Electricity (a poem)

Electricity LaVladina So afraid I’ll never find someone who makes me feel the electricity that he did. His fingers on my skin, his hands around my neck. Never have I ever experienced pleasure like the pleasure he gave. I wanted him so bad. I still want him. Even now that I know the truth about him. I want him to want me. He gets under my skin. I wish I could let him go. But a part of me, deep down, wants to feel the pain he caused over and over. Feeling the pain is the only way to keep feeling the electricity. I miss his lips, his hands, his cock. I fear part of me will never let him go. How could he toss me aside so easily? Repeatedly. I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me. Over and over. I came close. He haunts all of my daydreams, but he never enters my mind when I sleep. I wonder why that is? Only my conscious mind can’t let him go. My subconscious mind is intuitive enough to have already written him off. Awake, I still long to feel the w...

Stop looking for love, it will find you! (Or will it?)

Things are always in the last place you look Before I went to bed last night I vented to a friend. I messaged her about the disappointment I felt regarding my love life, and how it was weighing on me. I woke up this morning and checked the notifications on my phone to read a message that my friend had sent me. “Stop looking for love, it’ll find you,” she wrote. I know she was well-intentioned, but this line leaves me feeling hopeless and frustrated. This is a line often said to us when we are feeling down about our love lives. Where is this love!? Will a beautiful woman who has everything I’m looking for be teleporting to my living room with a box of chocolates and a bottle of my favourite white wine? When people say this, what they really mean is to be open to love but not have any expectations, because when we don’t have expectations, it’s hard to get hurt. But how is this done? How can I not have expectations when I know exactly what I want? This is something I often think abo...