Blogger and self-help author Mark Manson’s most recent Monday newsletter started with this sentence:

Look, I know you want to be that big badass with the sweet ass house and all the fancy letters after your name…

Those words slapped me awake. Lately I’ve been feeling unmoored, drifting across the figurative plane. …

Why can’t he take a hint? Several hints?

Let’s call him Brad.

Brad’s a nice guy. Cute in a real estate agent sort of way. I went to college with him, always in the same circle of friends but never friends, you know?

Then I graduated, and everything changed.

My husband and I became ethically non-monogamous after several…

I’m a safe driver, not a safe passenger.

“Put on some music,” my husband said. We’d been in the car for hours by this point, and I was bored.

That prompt was enough to brighten my attitude. Usually whoever’s driving controls the playlist, and my husband drives in silence, contemplating nature and the greatness of the universe (or something). I can’t stand silence, so I fill it with podcasts and music.

Our musical preferences tend to align, but there…

I’m married. I have student debt, but my husband doesn’t. We have advanced degrees. We have retirement accounts, but we can’t afford to contribute to them.

We both qualify for the stimulus payment.

What? I’m a lawyer. He’s in finance. What the shit is going on here?

Income in the…

“Do you think he’ll say anything?” I whispered to my husband.

It was our first time throwing a party since we’d installed our brand-new addition to the family: the Tushy bidet. Tushy had been making the rounds in my Facebook ads ever since I purchased the Squatty Potty.

Yes, I thought, reviewing the bidet literature. This makes perfect sense.


My name is Gertrude Highland, and I read fan fiction.

The topic in question shall remain unnamed, but my favorite blog updates religiously at 8:15 on Thursday nights. My husband knows this is Reading Time and not to bother me.

The writer hasn’t updated in two weeks.

Is she dead? I thought, desperately refreshing my browser. Will she ever update…

… in my ass.

“I need some help,” my husband said.

We were in the shower. In an effort to acquire stripper-soft legs, I was in the middle of a tedious shave with a five-blade razor. I decided to venture further north. I wanted to get everything.

Some of the angles required assistance.

“I haven’t had sex with him all weekend,” my best friend Lisa told me in a hushed voice. “Not since he flew in from LA.”

“Really? You just rolled over and went to sleep?” I slouched lower in the leather chair, turning sideways to hang my legs over the scrolled…

Dating is hard. Pandemics are harder.

Dating during a global pandemic?


Coronavirus is a cock block. Plain and simple. It was just two weeks ago that my husband and I were playing with my new girlfriend and her boyfriend, all of us naked together in the living room.

The social distancing measures are probably too…

They’d be shocked to learn what (who) I did on my birthday — with my husband present. A story of wedded bliss and ethical non-monogamy. And sex.

“So, what did you do for your birthday?”

My heart raced as I waved a careless hand. “Oh, you know. Just had some friends over. Booze and board games.” I cleared my throat. “Nothing exciting.”

Heat flushed my face at the sudden memory of Viv’s lips against my skin and her tongue between my thighs.

My birthday was…

Gertrude Highland

Editor of That Publication. Writer of smut and other things.

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