I love a good sale, but recently I was offered something for FREE: a naked man. I must say I had never seen this man, nor did I know who he was, but he introduced himself as a model. Such gift of generosity could be interpreted as Harassment 2.0, but let’s take it for what it is: one man's attempt at altruism. The Nude Model I draw from time to time and occasionally attend a Life Drawing meet-up where people

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If I owe the life I’ve lived to any one thing, it’s birth control (followed closely by chocolate, divorce, herds of wiener dogs, and the ability to cut you with my words.) From the Pill, to condoms, to running out of the room screaming, “Not tonight, I have a ruptured ovarian cyst,” the ability to decide if and when I might like to have a bun in my Easy-Bake Oven has influenced everything I’ve aspired to and achieved in my

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We’d been seeing each other on and off for years, he living in a different country, me moving from my country to yet a third place. The wonders of international Internet dating. Once a year, we would meet in a darkened room, reconnect, hungry for some decent sex and humor and walking and eating. Free from our lives for a couple of days. He was so busy, we couldn’t manage more than that. Then we finally managed to meet, unexpectedly,

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Embarrassingly enough, 90% of my therapy woes revolve around a very uncool topic for a self-proclaimed feminist: men. What keeps my neurotic head above water during these dead-end relationships is reading the words of trailblazing women. Except for Eleanor Roosevelt. She can fuck off. “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent,” she once said. Ok, but did she ever date a psychopath? Also, I doubt Eleanor was ever ghosted. And did she have to search Urban Dictionary for three-letter acronyms

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