my natural state is in a warm bubbled bath, overlooking the city below me through stately French windows. the moon is giving me a soft glow. I have a beverage in my hand and a bereaved man in my metaphorical grasp. he’s longing to be with me in ways I do not have the capacity to provide. he’s rich but I don’t care about money anymore. smooth jazz is playing.

not to start any drama but once you realize that you do not need men to be happy/complete/sexually satisfied & that their roles in the lives of women have been greatly exaggerated, you open your life up to a quiet and peaceful independence. i appreciate that you can want men and love them, but you don’t need them for a single solitary thing, not even to become a mother, and once i understood that i added 548 years to my life expectancy

“There’s a point, around age twenty, when you have to choose whether to be like everybody else the rest of your life, or to make a virtue of your peculiarities.” - Ursula K. Le Guin, The Dispossessed