B-L-I-N-D?! - Table Of Contents

Meeting the parents

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

Christmas Lights

PART I

PART II

B-L-I-N-D?!

1.

Hearing sucks.

Then you tell me I’m crazy, because I should be thankful and all that shit, but let me tell you something: it’s definitely not fucking cool being the only hearie in a family that prides itself in the fact that the last hearing person is rotting away in a coffin for almost a hundred years. It’s not. Especially when you’re a kid trying to fit in.

Table of Contents - He's Not Mr. Perfect

Chapter I - The Walk of Shame

Chapter II - Wouldn't You Like to Know

Chapter III - Service Error

Chapter IV - The First Date

Chapter V - Cappuccinos & Croissant

Chapter VI - Dinner & a Movie

Chapter VII - The White Chucks Society

Chapter VIII - Baise-Moi
Chapter IX - Dirty Little Secret

Chapter X - Murderball [new! 11/2020]

He's Not Mr. Perfect - Chapter I

CHAPTER I - The Walk of Shame

As she strolled down the street in those impossibly high heels that would probably grant her a lifetime of back pains in her sixties, Alex swore to herself— that would be the last time she did that. The last time. As if the walk of shame wasn’t, well, shameful enough, she also felt like the alcohol from the previous night hadn’t left her system yet, judging by how cloudy things were in her head. Plus, she’d lost one of her contacts. She’d taken it as a sign from the Universe.

She had to stop seeing Richard. For real.

Anita

Theo

When Theo was 9, he wandered off from his mother at the supermarket. He had tried going back to the veggies aisle, where he’d first insisted he didn’t want broccoli but Froot Loops and went to get them himself, but he couldn’t find her. Suddenly, hee couldn’t even remember what color she was dressing. All Theo knew was how he wanted the ground to open and swallow him whole as that pitch black, cold feeling froze his insides. He couldn’t help but thinking back at that moment as Theo stood, alone and utterly lost, at that dance floor, waiting Dan to come back for the past half hour, holding the white cane so close to his chest he could barely feel the tip of his fingers. Except he wasn’t a nine year old kid anymore, but a twenty-fucking-eight year old adult, pathetically lost, and yet the feeling was the exact same one.