Narratively

I was a wide-eyed scholarship kid among daughters of the rich and famous. I expected academic rigor and supportive sisterhood—not humiliating midnight raids. But the most shocking thing to everyone else was when I stood up for myself.

I thought I was just a liar, but years later a therapist explained a deeper reason for what I'd done.

My detailed fantasy life began with explicit X-Files fan fiction in junior high. It took a long time for real-life sex to catch up.

Growing their own food and winning over their neighbors, they feel safer in rural West Virginia than they ever did in the big city.

On Saturday night I don latex and beat men with paddles. On Sunday morning I go to Church. Are these two forms of devotion really so different?

When my husband and I moved to Mexico I thought hawking timeshares would be an easy way to make money...but I wasn’t a good enough liar.