Thank You For Your Sex™ – Lena.FM

I only know how forget and move on, lock them, scramble them in so that I can’t hear them. But the glistening squirrel eyes lurk underneath, waiting for a trigger–a film, a sound, a hint–and then they jump out and shout: “Surprise!” [...]

Enslaved people annoy me. Enslaved men annoy me. I don’t mate in captivity, and I don’t like to mate with captives. [...]

I need a face next to my love. Love, I was born with. Physical spirituality. Hands. God. Expressing my higher nature through the tips of my fingers, drinking the beautifully altered rays coming out of my lover’s eyes. No fear, pure art. No thinking, pure God. I need a face, so that I can be myself. Artistic, vocal, performing the act of giving and receiving as one unit of breath. I need a face next to my bottomless bag of gifts.

And then the loneliness hits. I know it’s better this way, and my heart is singing songs of joy. I am listening, I am singing along. But this strange empty spot, that cube of air that used to be a person, a person with ears to listen to me… air is not a person. [...]

You realize that most of the things that you have taken in with your mother’s milk, are a collection of folklore. Random approximations, inaccurate statements seeded with a possibility for love. Kali Yuga is not a joke.

Your heart is visibly bleeding as your perfect self is absolutely calm and unshakable. You look around. You keep a tally. [...]

“A healthy mustache. Every March, my friends and I celebrate “Mustache March.” A truly masculine man wears his hair on his face. There’s nothing sexier than a man with thick facial (or chest) hair. A nice button-down shirt with some hair sticking out the top. The air of silent confidence with the sweet smell of machismo. You ask me what is manly? That’s it. Hopefully that helps.”

I hate throwing around words that point at nothing but the presenter’s mechanical ability to quote Proust. Can anybody please enlighten me what is the fucking big deal is? Is it a sigh of some fucking exclusivity or something?

It is all lovely when you are thirteen (Fine. Nineteen if you are a late bloomer). But when you are twenty five and up, and you still rejoice in showcasing your familiarity with Proust…are you serious? Let me grab my cup of green tea and leave the room. I’ve seen this conversation countless times, it has gotten really fucking boring.

I devoured Proust around the same time I started having my period. It was a prerequisite within my circle of friends. A basic one. At the time, I thought he was exquisite. [...]

I wept on a train reading the book about my friend’s father.

Rob’s father telling his student things that would be common knowledge if not for the mass misconceptions. [...]

Today’s blog is about long distance relationships. Personally, I am not a fan. Although I’ve had one long-distance relationship that kind of worked out. In fact, it was close to perfect while we lived in different cities. And then he moved in…

But I also had a friend in Moscow whose husband moved to Germany for work and when he eventually left her she was so heart-broken (they had a Christian marriage and a great friendship) that she adopted two kids from an orphanage and gave up on her personal life for good. I guess, we all choose. [...]

If I am attracted to you, I also rely on getting attention from you. If you ignore me, I will get mad. It’s simple math, nobody likes to be thrown off balance.

If you ignore me and I don’t get mad, it is not because I became a good, understanding woman. It is because I stopped relying on you. [...]