Greedy: Notes from a Bisexual Who Wants Too Much

by Jen Winston

Though I sensed my own queerness, it remained a shark’s shadow beneath the surface—a threat I’d never acted on, far from dictating my life or probability of staying alive.

This was a dark era for my self-respect—a time when I used the MyFitnessPal app on a daily basis and still thought music festivals were fun—so it checks out that I conflated being fetishized with being adored.

I assume he had concerns that I’d make impotence his legacy—founded concerns, apparently, because here I am.

For the life of me, I can’t understand why “slut” is not a compliment.

sybaritic

In our late twenties, we manage to confront our own histories and find our rage, but soon realize our anger exists less because of the horrors themselves and more because of their mundanity.

It’s hard to tell if we lost our agency, or if, as young women, agency was never really within our reach.