My Boyfriends Are All Monsters

by Kimberly Lemming

“I wish to be loved no matter what. The cheesy, happy kind of love that you see in those Hallmark movies 8where everyone and their mother is contractually obligated to own a bakery or a golden retriever. And none of the men have girl best friends that so obviously want to fuck them!”

Memories resurfaced of a time when I did more than feast on these creatures that no longer bowed. I was worshipped once. I had a name.

I was not particularly superstitious, but a raven standing in the middle of the trail, staring a bitch down, did not seem like the best omen. “Can I help you?” Caw. “I don’t . . . I don’t know what to do with that information.”

“This is what I get for taking my Black ass out in nature. This fresh air is an attack. I could have been home with a margarita, watching Love Is Blind.

I squeezed my boob for comfort.