There’s something deeply therapeutic about having dinner with good, quality friends.
Last night was one of those nights.

I met up with a friend who’s going through a breakup that, in many ways, mirrors my own — with a couple of exceptions. Kerry and I were never married, and his husband didn’t die. Other than that? Pretty damn similar. LMAO.

We met at one of my favorite sushi spots, sat down, and talked about the messes our lives had become. I told him everything — from the initial breakup with Kerry, to the looming lawsuit, to the quick settlement in my favor, and finally, to Kerry’s death in that rollover crash in Kansas.

I cried. He cried. It was heavy — but necessary.

The Mirror Conversation

When it was his turn to talk, his divorce honestly surprised me.
Just weeks earlier, he and his husband had thrown their annual summer pool party in their beautiful backyard. And then — poof — a social media post announcing the split.

I decided to be honest.
I told him I never liked his husband. He was controlling, pushy, always had to run the show — a lot like Kerry.

For years, I let Kerry control almost everything.
From the paint colors in our house to the cars we drove — hell, even the color of those cars — he called the shots. I just went along, kept quiet, and wrote the checks. My opinion didn’t matter.

Case in point: when I bought my latest camping trailer — the one I absolutely love — he refused to even step inside it. Because he hadn’t approved it. Because it wasn’t his decision.

When I asked him about it, he said, “That’s your thing, not mine.”

I’m still not sure if he meant camping in general or just the trailer itself, but I didn’t care.
That was the moment I decided to make it mine — my style, my comfort, my joy.

His loss.

My Friend’s Fight

My friend’s situation is eerily similar. His soon-to-be ex is dragging his name through the mud — petty, vindictive, all out of spite. It makes me angry for him.

I told him exactly that. I even apologized for being so blunt, but I couldn’t help it. It pisses me off how easily we lose ourselves in relationships — how we shrink, compromise, and silence our own needs just to keep the peace.

I know that feeling too well.

The Fear

Which brings me to the heart of it: I’m scared.

I don’t fully trust myself right now. My anxiety flares up when I start getting close to someone new. I can see the echoes of Kerry in the way I react — in the way I fold, accommodate, and silence myself to avoid conflict.

It showed up with Josh too.
I accepted scraps of his time — an hour here, a text there — and convinced myself it was enough.
When I finally spoke up about it, I got put in my place.

And just like that, I slipped back into that old, familiar role: the quiet one, the passive one, the one who comes last.

No.
Not again.

Jake called me out recently for the way I talk about myself — for how I still, sometimes, tear myself down. He’s right. That stops now.

The Truth

While I work on rebuilding myself, I’ve realized something else: I still have needs.

I’m human.
I crave connection, touch, laughter — the physical reminders that I’m alive.

Right now, I’m not ready for love. I’ve got too much healing to do. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want some fun along the way.

If I’m being honest, I’d rather have a friend with benefits than a random hookup. I like the connection, the trust, the comfort of being with someone who knows me — no expectations, no drama, just honesty and mutual respect.

I can separate the friendship from the act.
It doesn’t have to change the dynamic or complicate anything.

So yeah, there it is.
I’m on the hunt for a friend with benefits.

Let it be known.

— Standing on the Edge

With Josh, I was willing to accepts his scraps of time. I had to be ok and happy with getting an hour here or an hour there. And I felt I could not say anything about it. The one time I did, I got put in my place. I became the whimp again. Passive and willing to put myself last. NO FUCKING WAY!

It made me think and Jake brought this to my attention when he said he is mad at me for the way I denigrate myself. It makes sense. So while I am working on myself, why not just have a fuck buddy or a friend with benefits, FWB?

I mean GOD, I have needs. Needs that have been shut down for so long that I feel like a 25 year old again with raging hormones. I FUCKING WANT SEX! I don’t have to be dating or in love with someone to have sex with them. Truthfully, it is probably for the better if I am not wanted to be involved with them because I have a lot of shit I need to do for myself. Clearly.

I would though, rather have a FWB than just a fuck buddy. I do like the connection and the friendship. when I watch guys on OnlyFans, (WHAT? QUINN WATCHES PORN? SHOCKER.) And I see they routinely hook up with their friends, I think Why the fuck can’t I do that.

I can separate the friendship from the sex act. I mean it is only sex. it does not mean I want to change the dynamic of our relationship. Not at all. There I said it! I am on the hunt for a FWB. Let it be known world.