I get into this terrible habit of slut-shaming myself when things don’t go exactly my way with guys.

Which is super healthy, right?

That guy from my frat says this weekend is super busy for him. And instead of taking this at face value and being like, “totally, okay, cool, he’s just got a lot on his plate for finals next week” I jump right to, “he doesn’t want to go with me because he thinks I’m trash.”

I don’t know why I go there, but it’s a really strange insecurity of mine. My knee-jerk reaction for a while now has literally just become, “[person in question] thinks I’m a whore and has lost interest”. In my defense, it’s been drilled into my head since like age eight by the patriarchy that if I get around too much I don’t deserve affection. (And you’re not fucking helping either, Taylor Swift, you backwards man-stealing puritan, seriously just because someone’s less pure and nerdysexy and blonde than you are doesn’t mean they deserve a boyfriend).

Sexually open women deserve this stuff just as much as women who make the choice to abstain. I’ve just got to silence the stupid critics in my head.


Text this morning from that guy in my frat: “I don’t think I’m going to formals.”

Honestly, someone had better have died. Because otherwise his chances with me just did. And seriously I just turned somebody else down yesterday. This feels like high school.


Clearly 21 is the age of the beefhead.


Tonight tonight tonight.


After my mother left, I went out with a bunch of friends and just danced for hours. It was probably one of the best nights out I’ve had all year, we all just let loose.

At some point, I caught up with that guy in my frat. I know, followers, I know, I swore myself off him earlier this week. But, according to one of my friends, he talks about me nonstop when I’m not around. I don’t think I can honestly fault him for going out and having some random hookup when we aren’t even together. 

Anyway, right away he asked, “why didn’t you introduce me to your mother?”

I laughed and shook my head. “You could’ve come over and introduced yourself like everyone else.”

“You should’ve introduced me,” he insisted. “I didn’t want to be rude and come over.”

“How noble,” I replied.

He shrugged, “I thought she’d want to meet the guy who is taking you to the formal.”

“Oh, so now you’re taking me to the formal?” I raised a brow.

“If you’ll let me.”

One of my friends was waving me back over to the dance floor. I smiled and started to walk over, but not before saying, “only if you’re a gentleman.”


My mother came to visit for the day yesterday. I was so, so happy to see her and we wound up having a fabulous time. It was fun to show her around everywhere while my friends and everyone else was around and I didn’t have a lot of work to worry about. It was great to just give her a day and not have to think about other stuff.

We wound up having dinner with my friends at my frat. She loved everyone, everyone loved her, and I honestly miss her already. It was great to be approached for the rest of the night after she left while I was out and have people tell me they loved meeting my mother.

A funny moment at dinner was when I caught my mother checking out that guy from my frat and she nudged me and said, “well, look at the body on that guy. Do you know him?” I blushed and looked down into my plate. She laughed, “nicely done, Ivy.”


“Every time I write, every time I open my eyes. I am cutting out parts of myself to give to you. So, shake the dust and take me with you when you do. None of this has ever been for me.”

There’s a lot I could say about this. About ideas, about sharing, about writing, about the human experience. About who I was when I first saw this video and who I am now. But I’m not going to sully it with anything further of myself. This is all yours as much as it is mine.


Sometimes, she tried to be coy and hide herself away. That was remedied fairly easily.


I’m sorry can I just climb aboard this relationship because I just cannot even.


Photograph submitted by jeunefille18

Recently, a well-meaning relative very frankly expressed the sentiment that blowjobs are impersonal and lack any sort of intimacy. You know how stuff gets at dinner tables when there’s alcohol.

I didn’t respond, but I think the bubblegum blowjob behind the bleachers (so many bs) stereotype is not entirely the picture of what a blowjob can be. Sucking cock can be an act of devotion, even if you aren’t kinky. It doesn’t have to be full-on cock worship, but it doesn’t have to be rough or half-hearted or unfeeling, either. Sometimes, it’s a sweet, tender thing. 


I like being dressed by someone else, especially when they’ve picked out the clothing. It’s the right balance of all the good stuff. It’s a gentle kind of control.