I have been dating myself for a while now and I have to say, I think it’s going well. I really love when I bring myself flowers for no reason at all, and when I take myself out to a nice dinner and we talk art and poetry and beauty all evening. I love the sweet nothings I whisper to myself, especially when I am scared or feeling inadequate- man, I have never felt more loved and supported. I can take on the world with me by my side.

Sometimes we’ll spend all weekend together, just the two of us, exploring new places, people, or experiences- we’ve found so many new ways to wrap each other in love. And man- she is BEAUTIFUL. Gets more so everyday. I love the way she sings and dances through the house when she is happy and doesn’t know I am here. Such a goof, that silly girl. But her eyes twinkle so much these days, it’s hard to remember them any other way. She just glows with love, and is delightfully quick to smile and laugh- I had no idea my love for her could lift her up like that.

We still disagree sometimes- but we do it so respectfully that’s it’s hard to consider it fighting anymore- couldn’t say that in the beginning, haha, but now- we take care of each other with far more loving kindness. We just want what’s best for US, and that makes it far easier to come to an agreement. And protect our ecosystem.

There is still a lot to be said for taking another lover, and we talk about it often- usually when we make love. But really, I’ve been monogamous with others before, without me, and it’s nothing like what I have now. I think there IS a great opportunity for something polyamorous, though- maybe a pair like us, to round out this fantastic life experience. But only if it doesn’t mean I have to stop loving me. 😉



To say a woman has “given it up” is to perpetuate the beliefs that 1) a woman’s sexuality is the most valuable thing she offers and that 2) once her guard of this asset is relinquished, her sexual availability is, from that point forward, handed over.

This false defense/ threat paradigm complicates honest and respectful connection and lays a dangerous, quiet foundation of ownership.

Two Ships

Two ships passing in the night, I think and sigh.  That implies a slowness, a luxury, we don’t afford.  I crawl into the bed that you have just left, still warm, still creased, from your full but lonely day’s sleep.  Thoughtlessly, I finger the creases in the sheet beside me, the course cotton but a weak substitute for your softness.