When Michael left for the West, I experienced what in Portuguese is known as saudade, an intense nostalgia for a person.

I like sex in fiction to be full of ambivalence—undeniable lust mixed with doubt or disgust. I have done things with lovers I don’t want to tell anyone. 

Not knowing was better than being disappointed. If I didn’t know what TGOYI meant, it could mean anything.

Yes, my mother loved Pooh, but as far as I know her love was platonic.

I saw Jim Jarmusch yesterday.

About two weeks into the Coronavirus Quarantine, I began noticing some odd behaviors.

Medical professionals are careful to point out that cerebral palsy itself doesn’t inhibit sexual desire or function, though studies show that most young adults with CP report physical problems related to sexual contact.

Normal: a word-world I, as cisgender, could claim. That she couldn’t. So many label traps. Normal, gender, virginity. Sarah.

My mother mentioned Darren to me only once. I was in college by then.

My writing professor said to me that in order to get better, you had to dismantle the person you were, because that person was killing you. I kept wondering: Why did a killer love me?

My trip had begun in Seattle, where the past few years had served up one setback after the next. I had been cut loose by my latest not-quite-boyfriend.

The day before isolation, I celebrate my birthday, unwed, the first of its kind in my adult life, my divorce from a great man with whom I shared an OK eleven years, finalized by way of a $250 internet

I’d learned from Rock of Love that a diabetic’s rollercoaster blood sugar is a constant interruptor at best.

Xenia and I had been cheating on each other with the same woman for about three months