A few weeks ago, I went on a date. Dinner at a lovely restaurant, a playful argument over who was paying, and a walk through a London’s beautiful streets in the cooling air. It was brilliant. There was some flirting, some teasing, and – on my part anyway – some blushing. They’re both wonderful, clever, attractive-as-fuck people: one of them I want to be like when I’m older, and one of them who I want to fuck right now.
Tag: pretty skirts are the best
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What to wear on a date with your crush and his wife
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My armour is made of pretty skirts
Today has been pretty terrible, and I’ve managed to write neither of the posts for my new ‘personal essays’ category that I’ve been planning. I did write something else, though, because I did remember today how nowadays my clothes feel like my armour, empowering me against the world.