Stephen Phillips
Stories (22/0)
Be the Guy a Woman Tells Her Girlfriends About
We've all seen them. Groups of women huddled together in coffee shops, in bars, on a beach or in a break room. We've seen the way they gesticulate, raise their voices, how detailed and story-like their conversations can become.
By Stephen Phillips3 months ago in Humans
How to Approach Casual Sex Without Acting Like a Douchebag
Having casual sex in today’s hook up culture can sometimes feel like you’ve committed to a bumper car ride at an amusement park. Strapped in on all fronts, you don’t drive as much as steer through a loud area filled with desire, mystery and potential suitors as you try to make it safely to the other side.
By Stephen Phillips11 months ago in Filthy
What Happens When You Stop Watching Porn for 90 Days
If I seem a little out of it, bear with me. I'm still trying to get used to this new routine I've got going. In the mornings, I get up early and ease around the apartment. I walk onto the porch as the sun is unfolding and read some Rumi poetry or Raymond Carver if it's not too cold to be out there.
By Stephen Phillips12 months ago in Filthy
Looking at Naked Women in Real Life
There was a time not so long ago when attempting to look at naked women was always somewhere on my list of daily goals. It was in the 90s when internet access was paved with dial-up. A time for curiosity, imagination, and the occasional scrambled, soft-core film on cable.
By Stephen Phillips12 months ago in Filthy
Sleeping in My Car at the End of the Month
Things are tough going for me these days. They’re tough for a lot of people and I just happen to be part of the group. I’m being stretched to my limit on all ends and every time the sun sets, I tend to sit for a few minutes, take some deep breaths and remember there’s a chance to see another one.
By Stephen Phillips12 months ago in Confessions
That Time I Met An Emotionally Available Woman
Once, I walked into a public radio station in Pasadena and my entire world shifted as if stepping onto a pair of small, tectonic plates. The floor parted and I was thrust towards a sparkly-eyed woman posing as a receptionist. She was wearing a sweater and her hair rested on it like golden leaves on a field of summer grass.
By Stephen Phillipsabout a year ago in Humans
