How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Second Wedding

Three weeks ago, two days after our wedding, my new husband Paul and I borrowed a car and drove into the Colorado Rocky Mountains. Our shared future rolled out before us, as epic and seismic as the landscape. We nestled ourselves on the bank of Boulder Creek, intoxicated with the charged intimacy of being newlyweds on a mountainside soaked with sun, and I simultaneously tried to luxuriate in this awareness of love and also shake off my awareness of the history that preceded it. READ MORE

Too Emotional, Too Sensitive, Too Much

 When I was maybe three or four, I wept upon seeing my mother after she returned from the hairdresser. She’d clipped a few inches and in doing so, irrevocably altered her visual context, and, as it seemed to me at the time, transformed into another woman who was not my mother. Later that same day, already devastated by the slight change in my mother’s coiffure, I announced—loudly—my displeasure at the way the ivy was placed on the clock that was hanging in the kitchen. Maybe it seemed oddly parallel to my mother’s haircut (the ivy hung down the sides of the clock, somewhat like hair); maybe my childhood eccentricity was the sort that would make me suddenly become invested in plant decor regardless. READ MORE

Fantasy On Wheels: My Roller Rink Sexual Awakening

When I was thirteen, I participated in an after-school activity ambiguously—and generously—named “Lifetime Sports.” At my North Carolina private school, a place particularly dedicated to social hierarchy, your position on a team was determined as much by popularity as athletic ability, and as I was fundamentally lacking in both coolness and hand-eye coordination, I thought I might as well try life-sporting. Participation would involve periodic trips to a local roller rink. READ MORE