In True Form…

I had so much fun with this look the other night. I wore my custom
high waisted slacks by Julie Mollo, paired with a button down Marciano
shirt, tied up. For the icing on the cake, I decided to pin back my
long locks and go for a shorter look for a fun night out. It took me
all of about 10 minutes.. This is me in true form!



Night Bird

3am. The hour I most anticipate his attention. The hour of my utmost vulnerability to his lust. Nothing good comes from connecting at this time, yet it’s the contact I crave the most.

I lie in bed, my phone next to my pillow, cradled in my hand. Close enough to hear his nightcall, for it to wake me if I drift off, to feel its vibration run like electricity through me, until I can almost hear his whisper: “Come to me.” That vibration, like the one that fills my head resting on his chest, his voice lulling me in the low, relaxed way that only comes after he does…

Will tonight be a night that he calls to me? Will I answer with my total self, delivered undeservedly to his front door?

3am. He’s turned me into an insomniac. My need to hear from him at this hour has become a gluttonous addiction force-feeding itself. My ability to sleep through the night revolves around his sexual whims. I can’t rest without his call, waking as the sun rises, checking my phone for a possible missed connection.

When he has called, that irresistible blinking green light flashes like his Cheshire cat smile, relieving me of the need for his attention, for the poison that is him. It soothes me and sends me back to slumber. But the nights he hasn’t called, when I wake with a start, grab my phone and see the maddening nothing—those are the nights when I can’t go back to sleep nor will myself out of bed until noon. Lying there, empty without him, without his need for me even when that need is the most primal, the most selfish, the most destructive. 

Nights spent with him are also spent in chronic unrest. I don’t exhale, waking hours before him, taking in every moment to feed my addiction from memory until the next 3am: the feel of his unchanged sheets against my bare skin; the constant battle with his unruly pillows, slithering out of their cases ever-unrestrained; the smell of his unclean hair and sweat that stay on my skin hauntingly, until I wash him away.

He breathes deeply in his sleep, relaxed, his needs satisfied.  My head rises and falls with his chest, his heartbeat in my ear. I watch him, my eyes telling him all of the things I can’t say when he’s awake, wishing that he will somehow feel the weight of my exposed heart and answer its call with his.





Selfie Sunday roundup: Easter Edition. Looks like all the girls really brought out their…er…Sunday best. Everyone looks great in their festive spring pastels. If you believe in the higher power that is Me In My Place, then yesterday truly was a high holy day.

Be sure to follow our Instagram @meinmyplace to get exclusive photos every day, and participate in Selfie Sunday next week by tagging your selfies with #mimp #selfiesunday.

Until next week, check out these generous ladies who shared their selfies with us this week:

@moorejacqueline @misskings_ @muffynextdoor @super_roxy @night_karasu @aurorainexile


MAMO Editor