Philophobia: Fear Of Falling In Love

I love how relatable she is… And her style portrays it perfectly. Need to read her poems eventually.

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Unsplash / Brooklyn MorganUnsplash / Brooklyn Morgan

I sobbed today for the first time in a while.

I think my friends, and maybe even readers, would find that surprising. I totally seem like the sobbing type, right? And it’s true, I’m the one you’d call when you want someone totally comfortable with uncomfortable emotions. I’ll rub your back and you can spill your guts. We can cry together! It fits with who you expect me to be, right?

I get teary-eyed over so many things. Some sweet heart-felt message a reader sent. Those dreadful commercials with the sad-eyed puppy dogs that I wish I could save. The sting of sudden nostalgia when a memory I’d kept buried suddenly pops up. Movies get me. Books. Essays. I will read the same sentence four times, letting tears cloud my vision, and go back again. Read it again so I can feel it. I want to…

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My Top 10 Movies This Year

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Gone GirlGone Girl

1. Movie that you thought was gonna be number 3.

2. Movie was commercially successful to show that I’m the right type of snob.

3. Movie that makes no fiscal sense (to counter #2)

4. Movie that would be #1 if there wasn’t some secret intention behind this.

5. Movie starring some old washed up actor, to show you I’ve been in the game longer than you.

6. Movie I didn’t actually see, but you’ll never find out.

7. Movie that makes it clear I actively alienate republicans.

8. Low-brow movie just to keep you on your toes.

9. Foreign movie. Scrolled through twitter the whole time.

10. Gone Girl. [tc-mark]

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I Tried Masturbating To Music Instead Of Porn And Had The Best Orgasm Of My Life

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I hate perversions of natural beauty. That’s something Amber my pen pal, and friend for six years, once said to me in a letter addressed from Rhode Island to Jamaica. She dated a Jacob at the time, called him Jake. He was a boy who, I realized much later, is not exactly her physical type, but just the type of person she could see herself spending the rest of her life with. He made her feel confused a lot, and angry a lot, and at the time we thought this was love. Because the distended, figurative heart, wracked with woe and melodramatic feelings must not be ill and fed up of the tired old bullshit, but instead, simply, in love.

But I don’t want to talk about love. I care for it, but mostly don’t discuss it. I’d rather talk about sex. I want to talk about the natural beauty…

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I’m A Woman Who’s Seriously Attracted To Feminine Men

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Daniel Oines

[tc-related post=316772 align=right]

I’m a woman, and I love feminine men.

I love physically feminine men. An exposed clavicle. An exposed neck. Shapely legs. A tapered male waist — not as dramatic as a woman’s hourglass, but a lengthened and subtle curve.

I love men who wear clothing that accentuates their shape, rather boxy stoutness.

I love the look of a sleek male dancer, the male body applied to graceful lines and arcs rather than forced into rigid displays of brute strength and speed.

Not all feminine men look the part. I love feminine mannerisms. Coyness. A soft smile. Eloquent hands. Emotional expressiveness — that is, self-expression that doesn’t necessarily have to do with domineering, or being funny and clever, or being loud.

And feminine attributes. Sensitivity to aesthetics. Appreciation of detail. Deeply developed empathy and kindness. Consideration. Open affections. A particular kind of strength — pragmatic and…

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