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I was reading a post about anxiety and depression, and surprise, my mind was like yes, let’s go back down that road. Let’s stay a while. Let’s make you so unhappy with your current life situations and decisions that you tear up immediately and consider texting your old friend you always used to talk to about it that you need him again.

Or let’s fucking not.

Shit.

Now shut up and hear me out.

I don’t want a man to have the satisfaction of knowing he’s taken my virginity. Call it a power struggle, call it misandry (no, don’t), whatever you call it, I don’t want any man on this planet to be able to say he took my virginity. It’s not his to take.

It’s not his to take because I’ve claimed it already.

PLOT TWIST: I TOOK MY OWN VIRGINITY.

I mean, sex can be defined however you want it to be, so I’m thinking about all those times I used a bubble wand (you know those things at Walmart that are just a really long bubble thing? yeah) on myself and I think I get to define that as me taking my own virginity. Because I fucking said so. I mean there was penetration involved and that’s how I personally define heterosexual virginity loss, so there we go.

Side note: you can define “losing your virginity” however the fuck you want, and don’t let anybody tell you different. If you think it’s having oral sex, that’s fine. If you think it’s having an orgasm, that’s fine. Whatever you decide is fucking fine. If anyone ever tries to tell you otherwise, punch them in the face. It’s not their body and it’s not their decision.

I just became fiercely invested in this argument, wow. I guess I just hate when other people try to tell me about my body and my choices.

Side note 2: I have not had sex with another person. Sometimes I think I want to and then I remember the last time I slept in the same bed as a man and I want to throw up. He didn’t really do anything, I just didn’t like him. I think that’s a story for another day.

This post is really long, wow. Time to tag the shit out of it.

Oh yeah, side note 3: Not only is “popping your cherry” fucking nasty sounding, it’s hugely incorrect. Your hymen does not break (and if it does, you’re probably doing it wrong) it stretches. In a rare case, your hymen could cover the entire opening to your vagina, and I guess then it would get “popped,” but that’s the only way your cherry would ever pop. Hymen stretches. And if you don’t have sex for a long time, it’ll probably go back to how it was before you ever had sex. If you take it slow, and go through foreplay or use lube or something, your first time shouldn’t even really be that painful.

Last side note: you are always allowed to tell your partner to stop. If you’re half undressed and you want to stop, you can tell them to stop. If you are already having sex and you want to stop, you can tell them to stop. It is your body. You get to make the decisions. If you decide you don’t want to continue for any fucking reason, you can say so. 

Last winter I went to Starbucks with one of my friends when it was BOGO free on some sort of thing, so we got two frappucinos. Apparently when they made our order they accidentally made my drink as a hot drink instead, and so they remade mine and then gave us the extra drink. Since it was winter (and the midwest is fucking freezing in the winter) we decided to go drive around the city and see if we could find someone who looked like they could use a warm cup of coffee. I mean not like homeless necessarily, just someone who was in the elements and looked like they might appreciate some free warmth.

We didn’t end up finding anyone, which makes the story even more pointless, but it was still nice trying to do something nice, you know?

I don’t get it at all. Like I’ve gained a metric fuckton of weight over the last two years (probs over like 60 pounds, I stopped keeping track) and I am just…I’m huge. I mean it could be a lot worse (okay I’m not that huge). I am rather large though.

But even though I’ve gained all this weight and look terrible and can’t wear half of my clothes…I’ve gained a lot of confidence in who I am. And like I care a lot less about whether or not people are judging my appearance, because I’m okay with me and that’s all I care about.

Idk man. I want to lose weight and all but it would really suck if the self-esteem went away too.

I’m really not. But I hate men so fucking much that I often wish I were a lesbian.

But you can’t tell that to people, because you can’t glorify homosexuality and the struggle and stuff because you aren’t actually a part of it, you know?

Shit though. Being a lesbian would be really convenient.

(See how insensitive that sounds? Ugh.)

Shit needsa stop.

Here’s one: one of my closest friends in the world does this thing.

We talk about feminism a lot but she’s also Catholic, and recently one of her facebook friends (who is an atheist) posted something that was offensive to women and also to religious people (I have no memory of what it was, unfortunately), and it bugged me because I’m a woman and it bugged her because she’s a woman but moreso because she’s a Catholic.

It just bothers me that things will eat at her in a feminist style until it comes to being religious and then it’s like she stops caring about it completely from that perspective because her faith is more important.

I could write a 15 page essay explaining my relationship with faith and religion and still not completely explain it, so I’ll just say I do believe in the Christian God, but I hate doing religious things (going to Church, living in any sort of religiously-dictated way, etc) and I’m not a big fan of religious people. That boy who was so recently in my life told me, “God is my rock,” and it completely turned me off from him. It feels weak, and I don’t know why it’s okay for me, but not a potential male suitor, but whatever. 

I’m not even sure what this confession is about anymore. It’s like three in one. The religious friend, my religious life, and then the religious boy. Maybe that’ll help excuse the fact that I rarely post…oops.

You guys know me, that one kind of speaks for itself.

(It’s funny because none of you actually know me, just go along with it.)

But it moved so quickly that I panicked. I couldn’t deal with how fast everything was happening, and I can’t believe I let everything that happened happen, you know?

I also realized there’s nobody I love more than myself, and I don’t need a man in my life right now. Also he judged me. My anxiety is non-negotiable, and if there are people that have any semblance of a problem with that, they can fuck right off. 

“I’m not sure how I feel about being with a shy girl.”

Well, I’m not sure how I feel about being with an asshole who told me to try harder and that I have to face my fears, so how about no.

Nope.