Never Been Kissed

About a week ago, I thought about how I would feel about my life if I never left my apartment again. I am so privileged to get to work from home while Rona rears its ugly global pandemic head. Yet, how would I feel if my life somehow came to a screeching Coronavirus-induced halt, forever, right now? For the most part I have accomplished all I ever wanted, like escaping my abusive childhood, providing direct mental health services, and listening to the most iconic pop music. Yet, I realized one thing I may want yet have never experienced: I have never been kissed by a guy I care about.

The moment I realized this unfulfilled desire, I judged myself hardcore.

Never Too Late

Sometimes I behave like a hot mess. For example, I have a few regrets about how I handled the AWLOB shenanigans of 2019. He messaged me, we started talking, I developed a crush on him, we stopped talking, then he messaged me saying he broke up with his boyfriend and had a crush on me and needed space to heal from his relationship ending. Looking back, it’s clear what I should’ve done: accept that he’s emotionally unavailable at the time, wish him the best in his healing process, and give him space while moving on with my life.

Instead, I literally messaged him three separate times across the span of six months.

Celebrating 21: A Princess, a Bad Bitch, and Feeling Greedy for Romance

I hate romance. I despise how society prioritizes romantic love above all else: how romance pervades almost every song on the radio, how we have a separate romantic “relationship” status on Facebook, how we glamorize marriage as the ultimate act of commitment, placing it far above friendship. A large part of my now-21-year-old self thinks romance just serves as a patriarchal ploy; another part of me feels repulsed by giving into a clear-cut social construction like romance.

But I want it.