Emily McCombs

Sometimes I imagine what life would be like if I had lived back before glasses and contacts were invented and I couldn’t see anything and just had to fumble around blindly squinting at everything. Or before antidepressants, and I just had to spend my whole life crying in bed. Both those options still seem more manageable than living life without the ability to watch 6-10 episodes of a television show in one sitting.

Snickering at Anthony Weiner masks the brutal and difficult reality of coping with sexual addiction.

When you get a massage somewhere “nice,” they often have a little box to check regarding the gender of your masseuse.