A Day in the Life of a Feminist
The alarm buzzes. Ugh. Snooze. I roll over and come face to face with my longtime boyfriend. I mean, partner. He’s not my fiancé or husband because I don’t believe in the patriarchal trap of marriage and he’s not my boyfriend because I hate males so much I refuse to use the word “boy” or “man” in any fashion. He’s snoring. Ugh, so gross. Well, he’s good for one thing and one thing exactly.