Blog Archives

You First, Donna

11/20/2022

by LOUIS J. FAGEN

Waitress by Thunderchild7 | Flickr

She talks about him like he is the end all, be all. Oh, honey, I say to her, he isn’t all that. Hunting season brings in all kinds to this diner, always has, always will. You can never be too careful, honey, I tell her. Locals and out-of-towners come crawling out of the woodwork, but they’re all the same under that camouflage and their bright orange caps and whiskers.

She doesn’t listen. She coos his name like a pigeon tossed shreds of bread. Bill Bridges, she coos, he told me his first and last name on opening day. (Imagine that!) Was that before or after I saw him set his hand on your hip? Doesn’t matter, she says. What good is a hip like mine if a man doesn’t set his hand on it every once in a while? Oh, honey, I say, there’s a time and a place for hip hugging and it ain’t in a diner filled with hunters and you hustling around waiting tables.

After Iris

11/6/2022

by LINDSAY MORRIS

10962161 by Juska Wendland | Flickr

When a former stranger covered in sweat and old saliva is wiping his fading erection on your decorative pillow, that’s when the big questions arise - like whether this person could possibly be your soulmate. Great relationships are often bound in the twisted pretzel of passion and friendship. At first, all that matters is pleasure. But when that initial rush begins to fade, when the hormones have subsided, that’s when the foundation can be laid. That’s when you decide if the person laying next to you is worth building something with.

I’d thought Josh was worth building something with. But after nearly a year of long-distance dating, his prolonged absence had created a gaping chasm of sexual frustration that threatened to swallow me whole.

On those lonely nights where dirty talk failed, where awkward texts and dick-pic Snapchats couldn't get me going, I had my own personal massager to fall back on. Or into.

You First, Donna

After Iris

Monthly Archives