“Because I do care. I’m not chill. I don’t want to “just see”. I don’t want to “hang out”. I don’t want maybe. I don’t want to “just be sleeping together”. None of that. I want balls-deep, head-over-heels, can’t-live-without-each-other love with my best friend and confidante…”
I suppose what I’m learning is that there’s no graduation ceremony for life. I’d sort of hoped that there was.
I had sex with a man twenty years my senior, is how this story starts. Ends.
It happened somewhere in the middle.
Days before, I’d said to a new friend – an incredibly charming Austrian – “No. I’m done dicking around. I’m looking for my husband. I’m serious about love.” And that felt like a brave thing to declare, because this guy, the Austrian, he was saying how girls just need to relax. Stop putting pressure on themselves. Enjoy sex without expectation, like “men” do. So it felt like a bold thing to do, to show my cards to the table that way, because it’s emphatically not #chill. And you know what? For a really fucking long time I played the Chill Girl card. I’m mortified to admit that…
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