Young hoes think they're ruled by sex and that every man is a desperate dog that will be fiending for their pussy for the rest of their days and then you hit 30 and you're surrounded by women who wish that was ~actually true as they all fall into lazy, loving adult partnerships , taking care of one another on a slow march to shared dreams and inevitable death. Enjoy the horniness of your youth and don't waste it thinking you're some special little oppressed prize running from an imaginary penis in your head. Everybody fucks and can fuck. Everyone uses sex for different things. Only people who fiend for your pussy on some scary creepy nonconsensual shit are low iq or homeless anyway, using sex as a means of entry into your life or dealings. The best sex occurs between two equal parties who either don't need anything from one another but a fun little injection of euphoria, or, two people who can make an equal trade. Sex can be a bartering coin for any gender tbh. If you're turned off by sex with men entirely to the point you need to create fantastical paranoid lore about it, You're probably just gay as hell and you are totally free to be gay in so many incredible beautiful places with other gay people and legit just be a happy lesbian with animals. Or, you can be asexual and alone and still have a great life. A lot of people adopt these cynical theories because they heard it from a village they consider "smart" and think its what smart people think, meanwhile its basically Cosmopolitan slop. It isn't always smart to tinker around in theory land when you haven't even thrown your hands and body into the practice. Theory without practice is just paranoia that clouds the reality of this incredible bustling life full of options
saw a new therapist for the first time in three years who complimented my vocabulary, told me i look young for my age, remarked on my seemingly secure attachment style AND told me she was gay. is this gonna work out?
humans of eastern canada in scenery + weather of western canada is the perfect country i always seek, the inexistence of which (so far in my search) is the primary thorn in my side
platform sandals & denim shorts in the rain, carrying a copy of back to eden, a blue scarf, an alarm clock and a cookbook to the truck feeling like time is fake
not like a full blown prepper but a prepper insofar as knowing how to build a fire, a structure, use hand tools, grow food, maintain physical strength and strong knowledge of local geography & being worried about people who are flippantly inhabiting their lives
got totally hoodwinked today by a small box from my bf, which didn’t contain what you might expect, nor was it given on a dropped knee, but instead contained a small ceramic anatomically correct heart, and two small portraits of birds. i couldn’t even be disappointed.