When I don’t like the way a text conversation is going or if I feel a shred of shame about it, I delete it. Then it seems like it never happened and I can forget about it.

The dread of insecurity.

Then I think to myself, fuck it.

What the fuck AM I WORRIED ABOUT?

David is lucky to be fucking me. I am a total catch, for one, and for another, I am super hot and sexy and open-minded and playful and creative and dirty and….

Why am I worried about what he thinks of ME? HE should be worried about what I think of him.


Maybe no one should be worried at all?

I get anxious and insecure so easily. I miss the sexting. I miss the Good Gods and Good Lords. I miss the witty banter. David has been distracted lately and I feel it in my loins.


I made a date to fuck the Tattoo Artist.

I need a distraction.

I have an appointment on Thursday.

That sounds as officious as it feels.

Get er done.

2 thoughts on “GET ER DONE

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