The ciondo-selling women were the first women I encountered as business travelers.
One day you just look at your beloved spouse of many years and realise, “This man has never once described a woman’s hairstyle to my satisfaction.”
Errands are a giant pain in the ass.
Like, completely. Would this be so bad?
My body, choiceless as it is, has always kept score.
As though wearing colour was the mistake instead of just being a woman.
Re: column on whether to believe Christine Blasey Ford
Or you could choose from the beginning to never walk into this trap, to essentially walk into a relationship.
Even though now she has changed her location and fucked up my whole structure for the day.