When I say that I am fuckable not lovable, it’s not to say that I am only desirable for sex.
Believe me I know my body is not the sort of body men beg to have sex with.
It is to say I do not think I am someone who anyone could ever truly love.
I’m too much work, too difficult, too complex.
I can feel myself waiting for him to realise this.
To throw in the towel, and tell me, "you’re just too much to deal with."
This is your modern romance?
This is your twenty-century love?
How disappointed.
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