I love that this is getting saucier and saucier. It would probably be a bit too far to hope for a Deadwood tribute Bible replacement post, but that doesn't keep me from replacing "bless him" with "blow him with soap" I'm my own head.

"OK, I guess this is happening now."

This is the recurring thought, nearly exactly, every time a man pushes, takes, violates a boundary. Oh, you're going to grab my breast at a restaurant, in front of my mom? Okay, I guess this is happening now. Oh, you're going to say I'm too ugly and fat to say no to you and mean it? Okay, I guess this is happening now. Oh, you're going to call me a cunt in line at the bank? Okay, I guess this is happening now.

It's such a sad, sick thought, and it holds so much, but mostly: the shock, and the complete unsurprise. Of course this is happening/how could this possibly be happening. Okay. What else do you say to that? Okay.

I feel like the sooner we get on to any of these outcomes, the happier I /less intense the fall will be. Fingers crossed.

Oh, ouch. “Women love a sick child or a healthy animal; A man who is both itches them like an incubus.” That was an excellent read and perspective, thank you.

Dudes, I fucked up, maybe. There's this coworker at my tiny, residential place of working whom I hit on in a hilarious and ill-fated way two years ago. He gave me a bunch of excuses, and getting to know him over time gave me the gloss for his rejection: "I am a grown man but also a tiny child who is scared of relationships and also you aren't the type of girl I usually crush on and forward women are not even a thing in my worldview." I pursued him in a friend-type way for a bit afterwards, because it is a tiny place and we have a lot in common and get on well, but was rebuffed pretty hard for that as well for a while (until he was sufficiently certain I wouldn't grab at his junk, maybe?), until we eventually just became decently friendsome colleagues who chat and play Words with Friends every once in a while.

Until we slept together last week. It was...unexpected.

Turns out he has tons of Catholic anti-casual sex stuff, which weirded him out, but also was concerned that I was now convinced we were in a serious relationship, which weirded me out. I said via email that I wasn't making a big deal and that we should just talk it through like grown-ass people. so it doesn't get any more awkward. He agreed, but has taken no further steps to do so. And now, 10 days on, we have not said one word to each other in person.

This sucks, but my actual fuck up is actually maybe wanting something to come of this? Perhaps it's the surprisingly good sex, or the fact that I'd been celibate for 3 years before earlier this summer, or that I really do like him and want the best for us both, but I feel much more invested than I should or than what would be effective to not make him just retreat into ultimate awkwardness forever. I'm also concerned about my work reputation and shared responsibilities and the goddamn lunchroom politics, like this was high school all over again.

Basically, I feel he is a wild horse and I climbed in his pen, and am about to get kicked no matter how much gentle nonsense I whisper, and also I unfortunately think his mane is really pretty and wouldn't it be fun to ride a wild horse over the plains? I've made a series of tiny, huge mistakes.

Oh man, congrats on getting an amazing Polly letter (which was incredibly moving and helpful to me, a stranger, which, thanks?), and you're being super proactive and great and dude sounds rad and just seriously, listen to Polly but also maybe do some CBT? (I brought my Polly letter to therapy and now we are both super into Polly.)

I'm a lady in my late 20's, and this letter made me cry at my desk where I was being lazy/bored/anxious all at once, it hit me so hard. My therapist (after working me through major depression like I was a cornered raccoon for almost a year) has been slowly acclimatizing me to the idea that I might have ADHD. The lack of focus, hyperfocus, a restless conviction of always underachieving, this same kind of intense dissatisfaction with my job, but also with all my hobbies, I've been told this is all part of that deal/diagnosis.

I was a dick though, and argued with her from my ugliest place: "But I am crazy smart, I'm a good listener, I can think like 10 different things at once and not lose the plot on any of them. That is superior brain function, not a liability. I'm Gifted/Talented, not Special Ed." She didn't hit me, though I would have super deserved it, because it turns out my wonderful, calm and patient PsyD with a great family and a life she loves therapist was diagnosed when she was 8. Supposedly, women who are smart and work hard do fine then hit a wall, like the LW or the commentors say.

This week, I was started thinking about swans, and I determined that I think they are my patronus, and that I should get a swan tattoo. Not of a pretty one, all floaty and white, but a swan rampant, just huge wings and snaking neck, staring you down. They are so lovely, so caring to each other, so ready to fuck your shit up if you kayak near their nests.

Reno was the shit, lbh. And I could try to tell you more concretely about Homestuck, but it would take FOREVER and you probably still wouldn't really care/understand. Let's suffice it to say that it was a story that turned into a meme that transmuted into a physical virus that causes fans aged 10-17 to paint themselves grey and titter about buckets, and fans 21+ to argue about unjust erasure of fictional, extraterrestrial sexualities. To death.

(Or it was/is a pretty innovative and entertaining webcomic, that got way out of hand on 17 levels.)

My first was in 8th grade, a FF7 paean to The Turks and how hot I thought the jumble of pixels that represented Reno was. It remains unfinished and unseen except for my friend who semi-commissioned it.

A dozen years later, as a grown-ass woman, I started writing some pretty self-serious Homestuck fic, but gave that up after about 6 months, 100,000 words and some serious looking at my life and my choices.

Is there a word in any language that encapsulates "feeling proud of a piece of fanfic while simultaneously embarrassed at its creation and disdainful towards its source materials?" That is all I ever feel; let me tell you about Homestuck..