After years struggling with painful vulvodynia, my relationship hit a breaking point. When I finally found help, I had to wonder who I’d be if I had never learned to fear sex.
I used to laugh at my mother’s Russian rituals, but now, I see them as a reminder of a home I’m in danger of forgetting.
If a signature scent represents the delineations of a person fully fleshed, perfume samples offer the liberty of a protean form.
A collection of baby names is like a taxonomy of hope, a kind of catechism for future lives scattered over the horizon.
Fascinated by Lou Reed’s New York, I moved to St. Mark’s Place two decades too late, and the sickness I got there followed me for years.
For a decade, the BDSM site Kink.com has filmed scenes for its more than 50,000 members in a hundred-year-old armory in downtown San Francisco. This year, the final erotic frames were shot on the premises.
Obsession will always be an attractive fresh hell for a person like me, a product of abandonment with a longing for attachment.
A traumatic fifteen-hour spinal operation saved my life but stole most of my mobility and, thus, my dance career. It took fifteen years to begin to correct the story.
After I was run over by a car, getting mad helped me find my way back to myself.
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