I made a post looking for masked hookups, to enjoy a summer of fucking and playing and not letting things get too deep after having my heart broken. Every connection has fallen through before we even met up. But then there's this one, God, there's this one. This one who has been tenderly caressing the place where it hurts. I do not know if I'm ready to walk the garden path with someone new again, but sitting on the bench at it's entrance with them has been lovely.
I will argue against misanthropy and pessimism every day. I do my best to remind myself of the things I love about *us*
One of my biggest cases against misanthropy is the fact that we, from a value neutral sense, make tools. And sometimes those tools are amazing and help us in our daily lives.
This post is brought to you by the whartenberg wheel that relieved the impenetrable fascia pain my crutches have been giving me.
Trans butch dyke, maker of things, teller of tales, author of smut. 30s
Mask4Mask