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There was a time in my life when I didn’t want children. A couple of things occurred to make me eventually change my mind, however. One, I was determined to prove I would never be the parent I had, at least not the woeful parts of them that I came to resent. And two, I started to get older and holidays with my family stopped feeling familiar. After that, I would come to talk about my future children with so much conviction that I even had their names together. They say words are spells, and for three years every time I spoke, I would make comments about wanting a baby and my willingness to raise my baby alone.

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My self-esteem took a hard hit when my ex-partner expressed to me mid-argument that he didn’t have sex with me often because there was a smell. This was one of the lowest moments in our relationship and, I thought, for me. However, the only thing that made me feel worse was him expressing it again midway through sex. Though the first strike for sure makes him an asshole, I realized the second time that this wasn’t his intent…to be an asshole. And, yet, I felt worse than when he had announced it during our heated argument.

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So, it's just your regular night in after a long week. You've popped that popcorn, baked that frozen pizza, and guzzled a few glasses of wine. You start looking for something to watch and come across a title that seems innocent enough, only to find out about 30 minutes in that it's more than your average rom-com. It's literally porn on Netflix. You're seeing full-frontal nude, hardcore grinding, and glimpses of body parts you'd only see on PornHub.

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I purchased my first vibrator from Amazon a few months ago but barely touched it. I was still a little leery about having one despite receiving a couple "welcome to the club, girl" texts from my close girlfriends. I felt that this purchase ushered me into a new level of adulthood: self-pleasure.

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