Monthly Archives: April 2016

The Perks Of Dating Much Older Men

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The Perks Of Dating Much Older Men

The Little Mermaid

When it comes to dating, the rotten rule that has been around for generations states that it is socially acceptable for a person to be romantically involved with someone who’s age is at least half your age plus seven. However, there are people, SANE people, who deviate from the norm and date someone much younger or older than them; which, in my humble opinion, is totally fine as long as both individuals connect.

In my post, I’m going to write on the advantages a young woman has when she dates an older man, say +15 years her senior. While you must be cudgelling your brains about what has triggered me to blog on this, let me confess beforehand that as a young woman myself, I find older men enormously attractive. They are a whole package! And the fascinating thing with them is that they equate me on many levels –…

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The Invitation

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Everything I Never Told You

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I’m dreaming of you.
No, someone like you.

Someone who receives
my invitation and can’t
wait to come over.

My house, lit up by
moonshine and heart
light, awaits your arrival.

I bake a cake in expectation.
I’m hoping to sit with you
on the front porch, and
converse in real ways
where I can sit with my
legs crisscross and
not worry about how I look
with my hair up in a bun, no
make up on. You’ll look beyond
the shallow and see grace.

We’ll see our way to the
other side of the conversation,
your side, my side, our side.
And I won’t want more
than I have, now or before.

Did you receive my invitation?
My someone, my someone like you?
I’ve tenderly adjusted the view.
No backbends or recrimination,
not a single back wound.

Come over. The door and chapter remain open.
Rest here with…

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Breve monologo sull’essere figlia.

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prima o poi l'amore arriva. E t'incula.

Non ricordo di aver mai giocato con mia madre, ai miei tempi i genitori non si sedevano sul tappeto coi bambini. Più che altro l’accompagnavo nelle sue attività casalinghe, lei stirava e io prendevo il mio piccolo ferro di plastica arancione e mi occupavo dei fazzoletti. Oppure, per strada, le passeggiavo accanto dandole la mano e insieme cantavamo, se andavamo a fare la spesa io portavo il sacchetto leggero della macelleria, il macellaio le faceva gli occhi dolci.

Ha sempre lavorato seriamente come maestra, il pomeriggio, dopo la scuola, si sdraiava sul letto e si riposava e io facevo silenzio. Gironzolavo con le mie bambole, disegnavo, aspettavo che tutte le tapparelle della casa si spalancassero di nuovo, odiavo e odio ancora la penombra pigra delle due e mezza dei giorni d’estate. Ai giardini preferivo mi ci portasse papà, perché se correvo lei passava il tempo a sentirmi la schiena con…

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