I spent most of my late teens and twenties the way a lot of girls/women do, flip-flopping between the guy who couldn’t find his self-esteem with a military-issued navigational system and the guy who was so self-centered he never went down on me without expecting six blowjobs in return. When I hit 30, I needed a change. Then I met James.
I had written prolifically online about my love life, especially the failures. And from the beginning, I knew James had read it all. I didn’t think much about it until I noticed how often our goals, beliefs, and sexual proclivities matched up. I thought I had hit the jackpot. How did I find the one guy who not only believed in handwritten love letters, but also had no problem fucking me so hard I couldn’t walk for two days? He was handsome, brilliant, and had that Old Hollywood charm. He seemed perfect. Too perfect. Seeing as I was not a delusional Disney Princess, that made me examine things more closely. Keep reading »