Autumn was the season of fire. Boys and houses burned pure white holes into the night, and I self-immolated in every room but the little one I shared with you.

Almost every day, the sitcom actor goes on Instagram to tell his five million followers what he knows about race, class, and - more often than not, women.

Charming shyness paired with a love of dancing the Charleston in heels in the street past midnight. I kissed her bloodied knees.

2 is the grade I was in when I thought I loved Lucy. 2 is the number of times Lucy was arrested for meth in a single day. 2 is the number of Xanies she must have taken the night she showed up to my welcome home party, because she was fucking sloppy.

Jay arrived once a week, every week, for sex. He was a dental student, worked  Wednesdays at a clinic near my house so it was easy for him to call to see if I was free. I made sure that I was. He

Jordan lit a post-coital cigarette and contemplatively stared at the ceiling.

“My ex was a Nazi,” he said.

“What?”

You know what’s sad? When no one releases your sex tape.

So I wanted to bang this exvangelical guy and it's about to get worse:

We beat Brock Shamos every day. We beat him with jump ropes we stole from Mr. Randall’s P.E. class

It’s August in Manhattan when we both decide to leave. You accept a job in LA and my boyfriend packs my life in a U-Haul and drives it to our new apartment together in Pittsburgh. 

When I toss

Our hypothetical date tomorrow is at a show for the band Tennis. I have never heard of them, but I trust him. I say I will work my magic to get us in.

The Barrington, CT Boston Market offers the creamy richness of all Boston Market feeding centers.

Like Richie’s “Hello,” Adele’s “Hello” is also an ode to longing.

Still though, that’s fucked up.

I agree, I say. It is fucked up.

I don’t write “I have the libido of a sloth” in my online dating profile. I don’t use my real surname now either.

The only reason I’ve seen Space Jam: A New Legacy so much recently is because I wanted to avoid talking to my wife.

“And then after I came out to my wife, she stumbled across People Can Change,” said the man from Fresno.

Marriage is often thought of as having little to do with eroticism.1

I met my husband while bartending in Oakland. He applied to be the new chef. Tattooed knuckles. Chubby cheeks. Full beard.

My mother had been on a rampage to find me a husband since I started college.

The whole first week after moving into his Brooklyn apartment – our apartment he keeps correcting me – I’m horribly constipated.

Oh, absolutely a mistake to have given the wealthy Protein Bar Daddy my number.

Seventeen days since you spoke your last words to me. They repeat themselves in my mind, I never want to forget them.

We get back together, because of course we do. He is better, now. Therapy helps both of us.

I saw into the face tattooed on his thigh and thought, I am not afraid.

Going to work after you’ve been on an meth bender in a brothel is not a good idea,