December 6, 2021

Dear F*ckgirl: You’re Worth It.


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Dearest girl (who loves to f*ck),

You are worth more carefree, mind-blowing sex than you feel like you’re allowed to have. Or allowed to talk about.

You are worth round-trip, first-class plane tickets.

You are worth lovers who can find your clit.

You are worth being true to your f*ckgirl self when your coworker is retelling her personal drama of a love triangle she’s caught up in and you can’t help but respond, “Why would you do all that?!”

You are worth backing out of an expensive, already-paid-for Christmas trip and pissing off your new boyfriend because he’s treating you in an appalling manner.

You are worth those rose gold heels you thought you should practice restraint on. You keep thinking about them. Go back and get them honey, because most women are size eight, too.

You are worth the peace you give yourself when you decide not to social media stalk your crush because you’d rather focus on the feeling of desire—instead of all the questions, assumptions, and what-ifs.

You are worth charging Ralph Lauren swimsuits to his hotel room in the bougie hotel shops.

You are worth having a bench. A bench filled with f*ckboys, husband material, and random men or partners. You are also worth telling these people you have a bench of people you date, flirt with, and f*ck.

You are worth heart-shaped diamonds—even if you’re the biggest ho that you know.

You are worth plenty of notice for dates and trips. You are also worth spontaneous plans in the heat of the moment that can kick-start the kind of star-crossed intimacy you see in movies.

You are worth tears, apologies, explanations, amends, and all the adulting gestures that two sexy people need to do to keep seeing each other in a healthy capacity.

You are worth the fancy water feature in the restaurant when you compliment it, and your boyfriend asks if you want it on his ship. He’s about to propose and your mouth is about to drop. Twice. You’re worth all that—even when you tell him you’d rather have a horse ranch than live on a ship. He knows you are worth it because he tells you you can have both. You’re allowed to ask for what you want and not settle for what you could get.

You are worth wearing white on your wedding day if you ever decide to get married—even if you had as many lovers as Elizabeth Taylor. Or more.

You are worth telling men—who continually don’t make you a priority or who treat you worse than you treat yourself—no. You are worth being cutthroat about it until they get the message. Even when they’re doggedly determined to make you their…whatever. Even if they feed you lines. You’re entitled to tell them no. Repeatedly. Year after year. Even if they get really angry and ugly. You’re worth everything that they’re refusing to give to you.

You are worth a plant-based diet, daily yoga, and reasonable bed times.

You are worth safe sex and trustworthy partners who care about their health as much as you care about yours. You are worth dumping men who tell you they can only “raw dog it.”

You are worth the risk of pushing him away when you tell him how f*cking dizzy his smile makes you. Or that he gave you the best sex of your life. It turns out boldness is actually a massive turn on—it pours kerosene on his testosterone and it sets you apart from women who overanalyze and overthink everything to death. It turns out you’re worth not being so f*cking annoying to him, to your friends—and especially to yourself.

You are worth non-sexual compliments from your lovers; when they tell you that your confidence is the sexiest thing about you or that you’re a firecracker—believe them.

You are worth financial advice, high-yield savings, building wealth, and a cash cushion for f*ckboy emergencies—yes, you’re worth that sudden, unplanned hotel room when he picks a fight at midnight and won’t stop yelling at your back as you’re lying in bed, exhausted after a long day of hiking. You’re also worth the box of clothes he had to mail back to you.

You are worth giving yourself the permission to feel good and meet new men, even when you still think about him. And miss him. And fantasize about him.

You are worth respect. And reverence for the feminine.

You are worth flowers, fine dining, and stamps on your passport.

You are worth thrills that make you scream, make your heart race, and make you feel f*cking alive! Whether it’s racing lessons, his exotic pet getting loose, or the best oral sex you’ve had in months.

You are worth not feeling like you’re less than, or a romance minority just for being single. Next time a priest prays for the impoverished, the sick, the dying, and the single—you have a right to tell that holy person that their prayers are offensive…and extremely outdated.

You are worth being treated with decency. If his emotions or aggression are climbing to a disrespectful or insulting level, you are worth staying grounded at your own peace and asserting to him, “Don’t speak to me like that.

You are worth expressing your emotions as they come and go. Even if you’re expressing them to a f*ckboy who can’t match your emotional bandwidth or expression—you’re allowed to let your feelings breathe, reciprocated or not.

You’re worth it and allowed to fall into patterns of normal dating relationships with daily texts and kisses, of no sex or boys for really long stretches, or patterns where you have so many guys on rotation that you can’t place them when they reach out after a couple months.

You are worth passing on proposals that mean security and not having to work because you’re having such a deeply pleasurable sex life that you can’t fathom giving it all up…for some security, comfortable love, and mediocre sex?

You are worth dreaming impossible dreams with connections, relationships, exploratory intimacy, sexual fulfillment, and emotional contentment that seems too hard to achieve. You are worth finding a way to not only live, but thrive here.

You are worth that freaky f*ckboy who sends quivers all through your body—because he’s on your level, moves at your pace, and speaks your language. He pushes you from your comfort zone with his own racy ideas, gently expanding your limits, f*ckgirl. You bring out the best in each other and he’s worth the extra effort you’re not used to giving. You deserve each other. And the little surprise thrills you uncover together in deeply intimate f*ckery.

And f*ckgirl, you deserve all of your desires and more—without judgement and shame. You are worth it.

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