I couldn’t help but wonder:
Do we cling to comfort because it’s familiar…
or is it the drama that truly keeps us hooked?

This weekend,
I had to hit pause on my straight wolf friend.
He loves to entangle me with stories about his toxic ex.
It’s a a classic case of ‘complain today; fuck her tomorrow.’
He went on about how their ‘comfort sex’ is somehow worth the emotional whiplash,
because even though he is having sex with other vixens that “are addicted to his big dick”,
he hopes they might get back together.
Honestly,
it’s like watching a car crash in slow motion.

Then there’s my straight vixen friend.
We worked at a past job together and around that time.
it was going great and she was extremely happy.
Of course,
there’s that one manager who’s turned her workdays into a living hell.
Despite sending out applications left and right,
she’s been there for over four years.
The job fits like a glove in every other way but that one toxic element is suffocating her.
The thought of starting over somewhere else?
Mentally exhausting.

comfort…

it’s like that old blanket or sweater you can’t part with.
even though it’s seen better days,
we still hold on because of the memories or the good feelings it brings.
they call it “comfort food” because it takes us back to our childhoods.
his dick is comfort because it knows how to please our foxholes.
we get comfortable in situations long past their prime,
convincing ourselves it’s easier to stay put than to start anew.
when i wasn’t working on my self-esteem,
i found myself getting cozy in my own mess.
let’s be real,
some of you in The Foxhole have been there too.
maybe the real question is…

What are we so afraid to leave behind?

lowkey: when i think about the horrible things i got comfortable with,
there was one thing in all those situations that kept me around.

“Hope.”