The boiled lover

I guess I'd never really thought I might end up alone. Somewhere in my future, I saw "something", a happily ever after of sorts. I never saw me being on my own long term. But with every day that passes with more of the same bullshit, grammatically flawed messages that hit the inbox of whatever... Continue Reading →

The endless torment of an adulteress

It had been weeks since I had cried in the shower. Weeks since I had cried about you, or was it months? It feels like only yesterday you were in my bed but it has actually been almost three months. Three months since I told you to stop contacting me. We both knew you wouldn’t.... Continue Reading →

Growing older not wiser

I feel old. It’s ridiculous to say at 35 but I feel my life passing me by and I don’t feel in control of it. I got an MRI today on a bung knee. I have no idea what I did to it originally, way back when I first noticed it in 2017, but it’s... Continue Reading →

How to not find love through speed dating

I’m not sure what my expectations were for speed dating beyond being incredibly low. Did I believe my “person” was going to find me by moving clockwise from table to table, casually pull up a stool and blow my mind with his intelligence, wit, charm in seven minutes? No. Did I think I might find... Continue Reading →

A metaphor for wilting flowers

I wasn’t going to write about you anymore. I wasn’t going to give you the time. But my thoughts are full and overflowing and I need to make space for new things, new pathways, new experiences, new connections. I need to eradicate the memory of a thousand conversations, the feel of your body and the... Continue Reading →

The heavy weight of words unsaid

A tangle of limbs on my bed. Our breath, that had been coming fast and hard, gradually slows. The skin on the underside of his bicep was smooth against my cheek, my hand thrown across his chest.  It had been so long since we’d seen each other and while the sex felt the same, everything... Continue Reading →

The subtle art of knowing everything is fucked

I usually leave book reviews for my book club meetings but I’m going to make an exception for Mark Manson’s follow up to The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck, aptly titled Everything is Fucked. I’m about two-thirds through but something I read has cut to my core and I can’t seem to get... Continue Reading →

The married man’s right of reply

He wrote this as a right of reply to my previous post. I've made one minor edit to remove an irrelevant reference to a mutual couple we know: It ended all too soon. Of course, I can understand why it did, why in fact it had too. I am not the sharpest implement at times,... Continue Reading →

How I ended my affair in a spectacularly predictable way

We always get exactly what we deserve. Last night I got what I deserved. It was eight months in the making and the moment I had feared since the day he told me he was married. I wrote him a letter. I told him I was in love with him. The consequences of doing this... Continue Reading →

How I became an accidental sex therapist

Like many of us, I am often better at giving advice than following it and this week I’ve once again found myself in the position of dirty Dr Phil. I received a message on Plenty of Fish from a married man looking to chat. I politely declined his request at first, citing that fact that... Continue Reading →

How I lost my way. Again

I think about you more than I should. I know it’s dangerous territory to be playing in but I can’t seem to help myself. Our time together is finite and I know it will likely end sooner than I would have it. But when you left me this last time, to return to your family,... Continue Reading →

I am not myself these days

I’m procrastinating today, which is often the case when I write. I’m avoiding uni work, ignoring my looming deadline to complete my ethics application and research proposal. The fact is my research topic bores me. I mean, I can see the merit in it, but it’s less interesting to me than drinking coffee in the... Continue Reading →

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