I Asked My Exes for Dating Advice

By Kelcie McKenney

Dating in your 20’s. It’s a comment that is often followed with a sigh and a smile, both riddled with fond memories and lessons learned—or so I’ve gathered. At 24, I’ve spent many long evenings talking first dates and heartbreaks and love and lust with friends, and I’ve spent even more mulling over them by myself. They did what? He said that? God, I’m so in love. How could he? I can’t tell them. You will learn to love again.

Photo by Travis Young

Relationships teach us more about ourselves than most things I’ve experienced in my short life, and while I’ve learned plenty through my experiences, I wanted to learn more. I’m currently single, still wading through the dating game, trying to find something meaningful that clicks. So I thought: What the hell? What if I asked my exes to reflect on our time together? What if I asked them for dating advice? Continue reading

I’m Bisexual, So Where Do I Fit In?

By Gabrielle Alexa
Originally Published on the I Am Woman Project

There is an unspoken loneliness when you have an invisible identity.

Our culture has always centered and praised heterosexuality, and then positioned homosexuality as its reverse. Bisexuality sits somewhere in the middle, further marginalized and stigmatized, but above all, erased. And just as bisexuality is overwhelmingly misunderstood, so is biphobia.

Photo by Linh Koi

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Tickling or Torture: What It Teaches Us About Consent

By Alyssa Bluhm

I have a vivid memory of being tickled when I was about five years old. My dad and my uncle tickled me to the floor, sandwiching me between the wall and the dining room table. While my uncle tickled me, my dad pretended to pull Cheerios out of my bellybutton and strawberries out of my strawberry-blonde hair, slurping them up like a delicious bowl of cereal. That was one of my dad’s favorite jokes when I was young, and it’s still a fond memory. Mostly.

I also remember that, as the tickling continued, my laughter turned to tears of pain, that my ribs felt close to cracking with every gasping breath, that I felt cornered and helpless, and that nothing I did would get them to stop.

Photo by Caroline Hernandez

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