is it so
wrong to want sorrow
settled by
the arms of
a lover, a friend for this
life, flesh for my flesh;
companion.
After an orgasm, a woman's body releases chemicals that make her fall at least a little in love with whomever contributed to her burst of pleasure. This is nature at work, and she has no control over it. A man however, only releases these same chemicals if he already has loving feelings for the woman, so if a woman agrees to casual sex to satisfy her physical needs with a man who does not love her before the event, she is voluntarily stepping into a grief cycle in exchange for getting off, whether she acknowledges it or not.
If she doesn't acknowledge and process this grief, her emotional landscape becomes even more tenuous; her needs for attachment transformed more by desperation than stability.
Online dating has escalated a complicated process to be even more complex. If we're serious about finding a partner, we must stay open to experience, which means we will inevitably be disappointed (see also: more grief), while also remaining cautious because the possibility of being scammed or abused is ridiculously high on these apps.
fish & flames: taglines
promising unrealistic
expectations. fuck.
Creating dating profiles is an artform of its own, let alone filtering through and replying to the onslaught of messages received. We invest so much energy in finding a match, eager for companionship & romance, deterred by the junk in our inbox, and then we create emotional attachments in our minds when we finally find someone we hope to jive with who then stops messaging or calling before the spark has had a chance to transform into radiance. It's all so exhausting.
my toxic trait is conjuring
daydreams that set expectations.
asinine; my
imagination.
full throttled & raw -
desperate, obsessive,
repetitive loops.
self-mindfucking. so
I plead with Goddess
to make it stop. to
give me peace from the
frantic attachment
I so loathe.
Enough with the small talk, please.
Ask me something real.
I am interested in your soul.
I would appreciate showing you mine.
That you work lots and like cuddles isn't interesting. Some of the best people I know are homeless ~ owning a house doesn't mean you have your shit together. I am not now nor will ever be cute, adorable, or any other words you'd use to describe a toddler.
I will never be your princess.
I'm all for a consentual sexting sesh with photos and details that make you tingly and stand at attention.
texting me unsolicited dick pics, however?
that is sexual harassment.
no fucking thanks.
a high percentage of woman have
experienced sexual violence.
I'm one of them, so anything but
diligent awareness of trauma
informed safety is interpreted
as unintentional recklessness
or willing negligence. be better.
feminine
experience is
a battle
field. join our
army of healers in holy
justice work, weaved in
beside us.
How much therapy have you done since your last relationship ended?
If the answer is none, don't message me.
I will not be shamed for my sensitivities.
Shedding toxic beliefs given to you by previous generations & a disconnected society is your responsibility. It is 2024. Do the fucking work, already. Let's peel that ego right away so we can get a clear look at you.
come closer
(my love)
here is my
heart, beating in your
sweaty palms.
what will you do with it, I
wonder, while you beat
your own heart
numb.
Also?
My sensitivities make me a damn good lover.
Attraction
is a strange force
determining how quickly
my skirt will land on your floor later,
my curves spread open to greet you.
If you're still here:
Hi. I'm Liz.
My bright blue eyes will probably make you melt at least a little.
I see straight through to your pain.
I laugh often, and love loud.
I am looking for a match.
An equal.
Heat.
Someone to walk alongside.
A friend for this life.
Honest love;
Raw, erotic, dependability steeped in friendship, creativity, humor, and grace.
Let's make art.
Let's make love.
Let's make it all wild.
Do not ask me how I am.
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