Despite having been the affair partner to two married men in my life for an extended period of time, I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.

The first affair was a purely sexual one that began and ended in utter scandal:

The second one snuck up on me, a stranger who I thought was safe to talk to, turning into a friend I never wanted to stop talking to, turning out to be the love of my life.

I didn’t mean for it to happen.

I can even say I didn’t want it to happen, because truly, the whole reason I…

Last week I was talking to a friend who sent her first naked pics to a potential lover, and unfortunately what she thought she faced was rejection.

“You’re lovely,” he said to her, which is a compliment I would take at face value from someone I trusted enough to send naked pictures to, but she construed “lovely” as “not sexy”.

Cute, maybe, but not sexy.

Attractive, sure, but she wanted validation that she had real sex appeal, and she didn’t get it, and she was shattered.

I’m happy to say I’ve never dealt with those feelings, I’ve never had to.

…

My ex had a set of gold velvet furniture, a couch and a loveseat that were so ugly they were almost beautiful in their uniqueness.

I don’t remember where he got them, I don’t remember a lot of things about that time, they just showed up in the condo one day and I balked at their hideousness.

But after a while I started falling in love with them, too.

They looked perfect against the dark emerald green walls of the living room, the fabric was so soft and silky, the loveseat was perfect to curl into, alone.

If I remember…

Only briefly and on and off have I been used to sharing a bed with someone else, making room for them in my sheets and my life.

Because of that, I’ve been known to sleep in my queen sized bed with a lot of extra junk in the empty space.

There’s perpetually a pile of laundry and extra blankets and pillows shoved into the bottom corner of my bed; I sleep with my laptop, I sleep with my journal and pens and poems in my head that I can’t get out these days.

It’s never been a problem but for…

I can’t think
and so I can’t write
about anything but you.

You’re everywhere now.

You’re in my kitchen,
on my couch,
between my sheets,
at my beach,
in my fucking Target.
Twice.

You’re inside of me now.

You’re in my breaths when
our mouths are pressed together,
your fingers wrap perfectly
between mine, and have
since that very first day.

You’ve tangled yourself deep
into a heart I’d kept locked up
before you.

You’re a part of me now.

You’re what I see in my mind whenever I close my eyes, and you’re the one I want to lay…