I’ve thrown away a Lelo.Twice. Clit stimulators. Roxy bullets. Pocket rockets and sleek, silky plugs. All of them cut up, wrapped up in shame, and dropped into the bin- like I was disposing of a crime scene. A purge. A personal exorcism. I’d look at these beautiful,...
My Standards No chaos.No last-minute changes.No blurred lines. Just structure.Just clarity.Just expectations - held tightly and without apology. These aren’t rules for the sake of it.They’re not preferences or power plays.They exist to protect the experience - for...
There’s a strange kind of worship among men.A quiet choreography - feet marching toward other men’s approval. It’s in the way they speak, prostrate, purchase, pursue. Most aren’t even aware of it. They call it “logic.” They call it “standards.” They’ll say they’ve...