Adventures At Antioch: Genderfuck

I let out a loud belch.
“That was hot,” she said. “Wanna dance?”


As soon as we started kissing, several flash bulbs went off in succession.

One of my first thoughts: Shit, when I’m famous, I’d better be prepared for this sort of incriminating evidence to come out…


I almost went home with someone because he loved how I smelled.

I mean, he was really digging it. Whenever he’d be near me, he’d lean in and inhale. The back of my shoulders, mostly, and said that it was particular on the top of my back, by the dragonfly. And he’d say, “Damn”, “Oh my god”, “You smell good“, “what is that?” But not even like he was deliberately trying to pick me up. It was pretty hot. Especially since I wasn’t wearing perfume or anything.

I’m such a sensate, sensual person. I tend to close myself off to people that way (to be stimulated or to stimulate), because I know how much my brain shuts down when there is stimulation. Because of this, it grows more intense when there is stimulation- it’s such a rarity it tends to overpower me more than it would normally (which, anyway, is a lot).

Stimulation begets senses overwhelming begets ill brain function begets wanting nothing more than more begets seeking out nothing more than more.

Not only that, but on a spiritual level, I think that when something completely natural about me stimulates someone else to such an extent, it’s a message that I’m not alone in the world and that I’m meant to be with them in whatever context is fated- our paths were meant to cross, in a sometimes short and very intense sensate hedonistic way.

Picked up upon pheromones beget raw human connection.


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