Warning, naughty language ahead!

“I don’t know where to fall. Or if this is love at all, but your lips on mine have branded a sign. And it’s alright.” ~ Arum Rae, Warranted Queen

~

You have two main reactions to me:

One is when you’re amused by my transparent weakness for you, and you throw your head back laughing at something I said or did.

Your other response is jaw-dropping, because you say that I tell you breathtaking things.

But tonight, you are neither.

Tonight, you are angry at me. Livid. Over something for which I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill—but I also try my best to empathize with it from your experience, because it’s causing you more stress than it is me.

While you’re speaking to me sternly, I’m so overwhelmed that I can’t help but tune out your words as my eyes zoom in on the corner of your perfectly crisp, blue-checkered collar. Then my eyes move up to your neck and crawl up further to rest on your sculpted jawline.

Even though I have upset you, all I can feel in this moment is sheer desire for you and nothing else. I’m too overwhelmed to discuss mistakes, drama, feelings, and love—but I know we have to. Still, I can barely speak. While I’m fine with blurting out observations of love as I see them, I really dislike talking about and dissecting love with someone who makes me feel a lot, especially too early in a connection, but again, I do my best for you.

I think you’re picking up on the fact that I have a difficult time discussing my deepest feelings until I’m fully comfortable with someone. And I may not realize that I’m actually coming across as careless and indifferent, which leads you to fire at me, exasperated, with watery eyes: “You don’t even care about me!” which emotionally penetrates me. It’s the last thing I expected from you.

Honestly, I didn’t think you wanted me to. You just hopped frequencies from our lovely fuckery into one that puts our feelings for each other under a microscope, and it’s just that I never saw this coming. I guess I thought of you as my match: a complex fuckboy who knew how to keep it simple and fun.

But now that perfect mouth, that I feel crazy-lucky to have tasted, is launching verbal, projectile weaponry straight into my heart! I’m not sure you mean to—you’re simply protecting your own heart—and in the process, it pierces any tenderness I have for you and my empathy (yes, I have some) pretty painfully.

You just busted your half of our shared juicy fruit wide open, leaving it—and me—to bleed out. First, I’m devastated at the idea of losing you and your intimacy. I’d never break things off with you. Never. I’m too fucking high on this. Second, I’m in shock that feelings bled into this connection of ours that I’m still learning and understanding. I’d tell you the truth if I knew it; I have no intention of keeping it from you. But I’ve never been here or felt this before, so I don’t even know what is happening to me, nor do I have a definition to offer you.

If telling you “I love you” in this overwhelming moment would make you stay, I would say it. But I’m a fuckgirl and I drop L-bombs almost never. Not until I am super comfortable.

Do fuckgirls fall in love? The short answer is: not that often.

The long answer is: if the fuckgirl fucks around long enough, she eventually falls—and even then, it’s complicated. No matter how much she fights and wrestles with it, if it’s powerful enough, it will roll even her under the waves. The fuckgirl who is accustomed to riding the wave realizes that if she’s gonna wipe out in love, she’ll do it with as much grace as she can—slowly, cautiously, tenderly, contemplatively—because that’s how she vibes.

Falling in love with a fuckgirl can be more torturous than falling in love with a “good girl” (or any gal).

Good girls are built for it, and they wrap their identity and existence around it. They live for you; they make it easy for you.

I don’t.

A fuckgirl does the opposite: since her limbic system has a fast lane (sensation/sex) and a slow lane (emotions), she’s grabbing the “oh shit handle” and saying, “Shouldn’t we slow down?”

When you picture a fuckgirl falling in love, imagine a sloth who is also a moody bitch. Obviously, you’d prefer a puppy dog jumping all over you, tongue hanging out, tail wagging—and that’s just not me. I’m a deep and slow feeler—so slow. No, even slower. Fuckgirl slow. Yes, that slow.

You’re bright, so I’m surprised you’ve never connected the dots that: “She’s doesn’t even know she’s falling in love.”

The fuckgirl bandwidth for real, deep, true love happens so slowly for her that she’s expanding to hold it as she’s feeling it. It’s as if she’s a fish who saw the most beautiful bird—and she can’t evolve and grow wings fast enough for you. Frankly, she’s also pissed off at you for yanking her from her comfort zone and making her feel such insane things. For making her think of herself in a different life.

If Sleeping Beauty was a fuckgirl, after you wake her with true love’s kiss, she’d give you the middle finger—even while her heart beats uncontrollably for you.

But I imagine it must be frustrating, confusing, tiresome, and probably an unbearable mindfuck to get emotionally involved with a fuckgirl…or to fall for one. Or to have one fall for you. She doesn’t know how you fit into her life or her future, and she’s dying to keep things casual. But now that you’ve awoken her, hell hath no fury like a fuckgirl who doesn’t feel like herself. Or who doesn’t know how to be herself and still hold your love.

The only obvious solution for a fuckgirl to find love is to fall in love with a sloth whisperer. That may be her only path to love. To meet a patient lover who gets her, understands her, and adjusts for her while she’s adjusting for him.

Don’t you want to know the circumstances she survived that make her move so slow and carefully, emotionally? Even though you don’t know her secrets, they are part of the whole of her that is pulling you in so strongly.

If you have fallen for a fuckgirl (my condolences), I can share some signs to look for and some behavioral changes that will cause her to switch gears from normal fuckery to falling hard.

I know we’re no picnic, but I do think we’re worth the ride and the high that can lead to a reality that feels like paradise.

Pay attention if your fuckgirl is:

1. Shockingly Honest:

If a fuckgirl is in love with you, you get the most honesty from her than anyone else she is dating. She has other guys in the dark about how she feels about them, where she is going, who she is seeing, and what is happening—but not you, because she plans on seeing you more. Maybe a lot more. She wants to be open and up front with you to earn your trust.

2. Vacillating Between Desire and Resistance:

This is the early and really unbearable phase of being the subject of a fuckgirl’s desire. It’s the beginning of her falling, and she has one foot on the dock and one foot in the boat. She is struggling to get deeper. She’s trying with all her might not to lose control of her heart. Breakups happen in this phase because she doesn’t know she is falling, and even if she does know, she doesn’t want to accept it.

3. Almost Human:

A more romantic version of us comes to the fore that our average lover never gets to see. We tell you how you feel to us (good and bad) and we let it show. It’s in the eye gaze we hold with you for a few extra seconds, the tender kisses we give after sex, how we’re open to cuddling, the way we look out for your needs, and doing the little things that make your life easier. We go the extra mile because we’re sweet over you. We act out our love language on you! Pay attention to the little things, not just the big things.

4. Clearing the Bench:

We’re clearing it all out with a fuckboy weedwacker. We let all the people we’re not in love with know (pretty much everyone) that it’s time for them to pack it in. The studs, flings, and fuckboys from our previous life know we’re in love before the person we’re in love with knows we are—and possibly before we know that we’re in love. From the moment we meet you, while dating you, and after even dating you (if we are still holding any hope), we are throwing the boys back who are throwing themselves at us.

5. Not Caring if her Feelings Show:

She wants you to know how much she desires you. We care and we protect like a lioness, and we’ll even protect you from yourself in your lapses of judgment so you don’t fuck up your life. We sock it to you, not knowing how you’ll react or where it will land the relationship. We’re candid—because why not? It feels really good to be, and if you can’t handle it, then we are tasked with finding someone who can handle the depths of our fiery attraction. It’s not a cold discarding at all—we silently suffer while we are sorting bigger feelings.

A fuckgirl is cautious with her emotions because she is in control of them, which can be misinterpreted that she has none. She does not drop L-bombs lightly, but that doesn’t mean anything. Still waters run deep in a fuckgirl, and when you do dive in, you will see for yourself. Beware, she’ll keep you on your toes no matter how long you’ve known her.

6. A Cheerleader for Unconditional Love:

You’re the one person who we find loveable, even at your most unlovable. We know how being “unlovable” feels because we fuck up as much as you do, despite our good intentions. Even if we have to step back for a while, we refuse to throw the towel in. You can—but we won’t. We’ll always keep a place in our heart for you if we have fallen, regardless of how you act or for when you’re ready for the challenge of your life, which is to love a fuckgirl. Of course, they call this unconditional love. A fuckgirl would never thrive in a world of conditional love.

7. Rearranging your Conceptions about Dating:

We all know dating bites because of the rampant toxicity. I feel fuckboys and fuckgirls are a byproduct of this toxicity, not the cause. If dating is toxic, and you have this stigma attached to some of the participants, who’s to say fuckery is the culprit? What if we fuckboys and fuckgirls are the ones who are getting it right? We take emotions slow and have stress-relieving, exciting sex lives…and there is still always a risk of falling in love.

It’s not like it’s out of the question just because my identity and lifestyle do not resemble a Hallmark movie. Fuckery, falling in love, and everything in between are all part of the ebb and flow of connection. I may not know where I’ll land when I fall in love—romantic love mastery is still a subject I’m a student in. Fuckery is an area I do have mastery in, however. I excel at it and enjoy it immensely. It’s always evolving for me. What I do know for sure is that whether I am a master or a student, both of those things beat sitting at home bored, lonely, bitter, and depressed.

I have no idea what’s in store for a post-pandemic fuckgirl, but I know I’ve used my time well to further slow down and contemplate my actions and feelings preceding this historical moment when mother nature sent us to our rooms to think about what we’re doing to her planet.

I hear her, I hear myself, and I’m listening and feeling it all. There are things I want to feel, and things I don’t want to feel, and you know what? They’re just feelings.

What I can say is that yes, a fuckgirl can fall in love. And when she does, it’s a wild ride, unlike any other.