I was perusing the three Facebook groups that were made in the wake of your death earlier tonight. Rumor has it you were electrocuted at age five, and it caused you to have an abnormally high voice. Less creative was the rumor that you died in your bedroom closet of a drug overdose. I forget sometimes how vicious thirteen-year-olds’ imaginations can be.
At peak novelty, the most popular of those groups had over 1,000 members. Now, their membership count is down to sixteen, six, and five. Funny how bandwagons work. (more…)
My new gynecologist changed my life. Despite my conditioned fear of doctors, she has relieved me of the occasional vaginal pain that I’ve had for years — quickly, and without the need for surgery, therapy, or anything invasive or expensive. Why is this story worth telling? Because every time I researched painful vaginal intercourse online, all I found were recommendations to consult doctors about surgical options or therapy involving graduated dilators. Nowhere did I find the simple solution that my gynecologist recommended. That’s what I want to share with anyone else experiencing pre-menopausal vaginal pain not associated with any type of sexual abuse or trauma. I’m hoping to spare other vagina-bearers some frustration, time, money, and energy. (more…)
Today marks exactly eight-and-a-half years since the day you died, just over a week before your 22nd birthday. I’ve been thinking about you a lot these past couple of weeks. Google says you lived about 75 days shy of 5,000, or about 7.1 million minutes. Each year since you left is a smidge easier than the last, but the loss of you will always ache. I’ve cried for days writing this letter. (more…)
My dad is a smart guy, one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. Like, Spock-with-a-sense-of-humor smart. Growing up, he always knew all the answers to every question I had. In fact, I’m still in awe over both his wealth of knowledge and how he interacts with the world, often to the extent that I take notes (yes, actual notes) when we have substantive conversations. (more…)
Throughout gradeschool, college, and the various jobs I’ve held, people who don’t know me have always addressed me by my legal name initially, until I clarify my preferred nickname. They deferred to formality as a gesture of politeness. So, why on online dating sites does this deference to formality no longer apply? (more…)
A trend I’ve noticed on OkCupid, and in life, is of men who choose to blatantly disregard women’s preferences, whether they be sexual preferences, romantic preferences, dating preferences, and/or other preferences. (more…)
In late July, a friend sent me a screenshot of a woman’s Tinder profile where she included a link to a survey and directed men interested in dating her to fill it out. Although the questions she asked struck me as more superficial and entertaining than for compatibility assessment, I thought her idea was brilliant and decided to do the same for my OkCupid profile. Heck yes for efficiency, especially for someone like me who is seeking a partner with highly specific, somewhat less common preferences. (more…)
It’s nearing the end of eighth grade, and a nice boy in metal shop class just asked you to be his girlfriend. You’re excited, terrified, and have no idea what to expect out of this relationship, but it will be the first of many to come.
Dear Mr. Turner — or, as you signed your statement to Judge Persky, dear Dan,
Your “twenty minutes of action” comment horrified me even more than Judge Persky’s refusal to punish Brock. Rape is not ‘getting some action.’ Rape steals another human being’s bodily autonomy. By this logic, are you saying you would have no qualms about someone dragging Brock’s unconscious body behind a dumpster and inserting whatever they wanted into any of his bodily openings for twenty minutes? Or is “action” only palatable when it’s a male-on-female crime? (more…)