Danielle Campoamor

I stumbled across Ryan O’Connell’s article, some time ago, describing in rather artistic and overtly witty detail what it feels like for a man to get his dick sucked.

Chances are you’ve seen the video and you’ve listened to the lyrics and you’ve caught on to the clever quips directed towards specific pop culture icons.

I’m afraid of accomplishment and success and the joyous occasions that are all-too fleeting.

1. You’ll be naked.

I’m sitting in the detective’s office with sweat pooling between nervous fingers and stinging the hangnails I’ve been biting for the past half hour. My body parts already photographed and categorized and sent away for collection, backlogged behind the arms and legs and breasts and thighs of women I will never meet yet, now, know better than I know myself.

It’s a trap. A scheme. A cleverly constructed allusion many interpret as nothing more than a way of life.

The first time I had sex, I was sixteen. Rushing between ominous finals I hopped on top of my overweight boyfriend with the intent of simply “getting it over with”.

You learned control and when you didn’t practice control, you were held accountable.

Don’t boldly stand your ground and strip away the defense of political correctness.

It pays off when someone sees themselves in your syntax and under your paragraphs and behind your syllables. You can bring them places they’ve forgotten or expose pieces they’ve hidden or lead them to the strength they’ve misplaced.

What if, universally, feminine was a synonym for strong and masculine a synonym for weak?

7. Social media isn’t as serious as you make it out to be.

The last time I listened to him he promised me I couldn’t do it on my own. I made him a liar.

The darkness and destruction and sadness of death hides it.

When the other shoe seems to consistently drop and sadness feels like a perpetual state of being, it’s hard not to tremble in the face of that fleeting feeling called happiness.

I’m not that girl who wishes for white picket fences.

Thanks to necessary dates and yearly presents and romantic getaways, relationships are thought to cost much more than singledom.

Not in the hesitant way that understands the real possibility of failure yet continues to spitefully reach and claw and bite and grab.