I just spent 2.5 hours on an airplane next to a relatively handsy and affectionate and PDA couple. At one point, I woke up from sleeping and worked on a poem I’m being commissioned to write about sexual assault.
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As I tapped out stanzas about the traumas that live inside my body, one of the couple members put their hand inside their partner’s thigh. I happened to look over at that moment and briefly lock eyes with the thigh owner, and it was a little poetic as I looked back at my screen.
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I’ve also been single for 5 years. I haven’t had penetrative intercourse in 4. I imagine to the average person these events have nothing to do with each other. Except for me, as the only person who lives in my body, it felt like the universe was giggling at the irony of it all.
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