6 reasons not to fuck him on the first date

#1   You actually quite like him. 3/5 times he will not message you because you fucked him on the first date. 2/5 times he will message you, but only to fuck again. And 1/5 times, he’ll message you because he actually quite likes you, too. That’s real maths.

#2   You’re sad and/or mad because of another boy, and tend to make rash choices instead of confronting your feelings. Lashing out your fanny is not the answer; you will feel bad about it the next day.

#3   You’re worried about other people calling you a ‘slut’. If you’re a grown ass woman and you are potentially not doing something because you’re scared of what other people are going to brand you, you are not grown enough to be doing it.

#4   You think you’re a ‘slut’. Just don’t do it. You won’t feel good about it.

#5   You’re doing it for validation. We’ve all been there. Done it because we can. Because our skinny jeans took 3 minutes to get over our thighs that morning. Because he wanted to fuck us anyway. Having sex with a man because he calls you ‘hot’ and ‘sexy’ will not make you feel hot and sexy the next morning. You need to be a confident woman who loves and owns herself and her body first.

#6   You’re shit-faced. Almost irrelevant because you won’t really remember at the time, will you? But if you are intoxicated to the point at which you won’t remember what decision you made or why you made it, you should probably refrain from allowing strangers to enter you. If he’s a good guy, he won’t have sex with you in such a state anyway.

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The Fading Firefly

The fog had surpassed looking thick; it felt thick. I felt enveloped in it. I could barely make out the others in front of me, their signals twinkling faintly and sporadically. I dipped and looped, dancing gracefully – almost hauntingly – in the night sky. It was almost tragic that no one could see me. That wasn’t the point, though.

As it does, panic found it’s way to me, and grace quickly devolved into something more staccato. For just a moment, I was secretly glad that my light was hazy.

When the fog lifted, I waited with bated breath for the lights.

Only darkness waited patiently to greet me.

There were no more lights to follow; there was only space. I was once again enveloped.

Bright and solitary, my light shone out like beacon.

No one came to find me.

I started to fade.