A glimpse at the life and death of a cultural rebel

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After finishing up her letters to her husband, Leonard, and beloved sister, Vanessa, Virginia Woolf grabbed her walking stick and as was typical for her, she strolled down to the River Ouse.

Somehow and in what manner no one knows for certain, she loaded the pockets of her coat with rocks and waded into the water. Her body was found drowned about three weeks later on April 18, 1941.

After years of attempts, Virginia set off to that river with determination. Thinking back on the letter she wrote to Leonard, her husband, she recalled her own words:

Just another example of rape culture in action

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Looking over posts in a Facebook group, I came across a man’s recounting of his terrible date from the night before. He explained that as per his date’s request, they met up at a local bar for their first meetup. Quickly, he realized that she was at the bar sometime before him.

She was incredibly drunk and apparently horny as she quickly proposed the idea that they should get a room together and have sex. He had different ideas. This is not how…

Introducing #notallmen’s close cousin

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Without fail, whenever I am responding to comments to something that I wrote or something that someone else wrote, if it involves an issue centered on women, these gnats show up. The subject could be sexual assault, domestic violence, the division of household duties, or even dating safety. If women are the focus, they show up.

I don’t deny any of the above. Men do have concerns. They are sexually assaulted. They are victimized. …

And why I am going to make you pay for it.

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I am not someone who looks for hookups. Overall, I am against them. I particularly do not like the idea of no-strings-attached hookups or anonymous encounters.

I want to know my potential partner-

There are many reasons for this but safety is a top concern. At times, I do entertain the idea of just meeting someone for a good fuck. I possess an incredibly healthy sexual appetite. I have needs that ought to be met regularly and often.

However, I did read I know how that story…

Not all men get better as they get older.

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I recently fired up my Ok Cupid profile again. Ever an optimist, I wrote up a hopefully interesting summary of myself as well as a clear outline of what qualities I was looking for in a man: culturally literate (specifically interested in the humanities), self-aware, communicative, and honest.

The next day, I received a message from a man. He wished me luck at finding such a man and said that I was basically looking for a unicorn — he may well be right about that. He also warned me against players and fuckboys. He told me that dating was hard.

Making love, fucking, and the blur in between

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A million text notifications. Ok, it wasn’t a million but it was an alarmingly abnormal amount.

My lover and I had been watching a movie. I don’t remember the name. Some sort of fake documentary about the United States with the premise that the South had won the Civil War.

Interesting, to say the least.

But that is all besides the point. I had put my phone down to watch the movie. After the movie was over, I picked it up and saw the numerous notifications.

The texts were distressing and upsetting. The news? …

How internalized misogyny messes with identity

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When I was in sixth grade, I had a blue canvas binder for school. On it, I had scribbled all of my favorite bands' names. I wrote The Doors, Led Zeppelin, and The Who. Inside, I had pasted little pictures of them cut out from Creem Magazine. Of course, I had also written out quotes from song lyrics.

I was sitting at my desk with my binder and Matt Rossi (not his real name) stopped to look at it as he walked by. Suddenly, I became very self-conscious, and then it got worse.

He looked me right in the eyes…

Turning conventional relationship wisdom on its head

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I am easy.

Well, let me clarify that: I am not easily interested in most men much less sexually interested. I am very picky about who I will even meet up with. If I am not interested, I am not and that is it. Even if I am interested, I am not easy to get out on a date.

Besides being a bit of a self-chosen hermit, going out on a date is not a simple feat for me between my work schedule and child care responsibilities. …

You were asking for it

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The quote above is an excerpt from a text exchange that I was having with a man who I have a date with this week. I was explaining the types of awful messages and comments that I have received from men over the years in both private message and in the comments sections of my content.

They don’t all hate me, of course. I should revise that: they are not all explicitly hateful to me. The guys who tell me that they want to fuck me, lick my…

A vignette of erotic persistence

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So he is fucking me…

He is fucking me hard. I have come so many times that day, I lost count. At times, one orgasm rolls into the next. I cannot lie: it is fucking amazing.

He has me in my favorite position too. The one that gives me the most orgasms. I am on my back, legs thrown up on his shoulders. He can get into me deep, hitting that sweet spot.

As soon as he moves me into that position, I can’t help but give him a kid in the candy store smile.

So he is fucking me…

Zara Everly

NY based writer and sex positive bibliophile. I write often about sexuality with an emphasis on sex positivity and female empowerment.

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