((Hey all, this is my first time posting. Just looking for feedback.))
Life had such a weird way of working out sometimes—when you’re nineteen and foolish, you think if a person is good to you generally, everything’s going to work out just fine. Unfortunately as you get older and start finding who you are, you realize that may not be the case.
That was my current situation, unfortunately. I’d just broken up with my boyfriend of three years. Great guy, and we’d ended on good terms, but we just weren’t compatible. Incompatible life goals, incompatibles views, and what I’d argue was most important, incompatible sex drives. At nineteen, you try to convince yourself that sex doesn’t matter—it’s just a neat bonus. At 23, though, you realize if one of you is horny every single day and the other only wanted to have sex maybe once every two weeks, there’d inevitably be problems.
The good news was, I was now free to see whoever I wanted. The bad news was, I was a picky bitch that had watched one too many murder documentaries.