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Hello Wonderful Reader, Today I’ve chosen a special erotic poem and writing prompts for you to explore your too-muchness and wild expansiveness. So grab a pen and paper, and let’s get started. Desert Pools By Sara Teasdale (1884 - 1933) I love too much; I am a river Surging with spring that seeks the sea,I am too generous a giver, Love will not stoop to drink of me.His feet will turn to desert places Shadowless, reft of rain and dew,Where stars stare down with sharpened faces From heavens pitilessly blue.And there at midnight sick with faring He will stoop down in his desireTo slake the thirst grown past all bearing In stagnant water keen as fire. Source: Poets.org. This poem is in the public domain. 🩵 Four Prompts To Go Deeper ✍️ I’m going to be honest: not everything about this poem resonated with me. I couldn’t figure out who she was talking about when she said “His feet.” Was it Love’s feet? Or was it her ex-boyfriend’s feet? I guess we’ll never know. The rest of the poem might be about loving someone who didn’t realize how awesome you were. Still, the line that really sang to me was the first one: “I love too much; I am a river” 🌊 So delicious. So juicy. So, I’ll keep it simple. Describe yourself as a river. Where do you flow? What animals and plants grace your waters? What are you like? “I am a river.” Write about someone who was too small to handle you and your capability of loving them. “I love too much;” Tell me about your sheer expansiveness and limitless power, realized or imagined. “Surging with spring that seeks the sea” Write about someone you were devoted to, yet who never gave you the pleasure or care that you deserved. “I am too generous a giver,” About Sara Teasdale (1884-1933) She was an American lyric poet who was awarded the first Pulitzer Prize for Poetry for her 1917 collection, Love Songs. I featured one of her poems for the “Awakening” chapter of The Intimacy Journal. I like that she uses rhyme to brew momentum in her poetry, but it’s not predictable all the way through. Here are my favorite quotes from the mystery poem I featured in the journal: “And that for you love held no hint of shame; My eyes caught light from yours, within whose flame Humor and passion have an equal share.” “Your great eyes widen when you talk of love, And darken slowly with a fair desire.” I hope you enjoyed this invitation! Reply and tell me: which writing prompt resonated with you the most? I read and respond to every DM I get! Sending love, Tash p.s. I’m sharing more updates on Instagram, TikTok, or LinkedIn. Follow me! 💌 ✍️ Get full access to Misseducated by Tash Doherty at misseducated.substack.com/subscribe

Hello Wonderful Reader, Today, I’ve chosen a very special unpublished poem and writing prompts for you to explore the power of forbidden love. You’ll discover why the poet never published this work in a second. So grab a pen and paper, and let’s uncover some of your juicy secrets… Evanescence (unpublished, 1920s) By Angelina Weld Grimké (1880 – 1958) You are like a pale purple flower    In the blue spring dusk . . . . . . You are like a yellow star Budding and glowing In an apricot sky . . . . . . You are like the beauty Of a voice . . . . . . Remembered after death . . . . . . You are like thin, white petals Falling           And                  Floating                                Down Upon the white, stilled hushing                 Of my soul. Source: Aphrodite’s Daughters: Three Modernist Poets of the Harlem Renaissance. Your 4 Writing Prompts on Forbidden Love 🩵 Write about any secret lovers you haven’t told anyone about. You are like the beauty Of a voice . . . . . . Remembered after death . . . . . . Write about a fragile love that the world tried to take away from you. You are like a pale purple flower In the blue spring dusk . . . . . . Write about falling for someone you weren’t supposed to. Falling           And          Floating                        Down Write about the small miracles that brought you and a forbidden lover together. “You are like a yellow star” The Backstory 📜 Uncovering the unpublished poems of Angelina Weld Grimké (1880-1958) I first heard of Angelina Weld Grimké while researching for The Intimacy Journal on poets.org. I discovered that she was a journalist, teacher, playwright, and poet, and an influential figure in the Harlem Renaissance, but much of Grimké’s intimate poetry remained unpublished during her lifetime. Why? Well, works like this week’s featured poem from the 1920s, “Evanescence,” were about same-sex relationships. This was culturally forbidden at the time. I ended up featuring two of her poems in The Intimacy Journal, because it was impossible to pick just one! Diving deeper into erotic poetry, I found a book that centered on Grimké’s work, called Aphrodite’s Daughters: Three Modernist Poets of the Harlem Renaissance. This was written by Professor Maureen Honey, who recently retired from The University of Nebraska-Lincoln after a 40-year career! She is 80 years old, and naturally, I sent her an email. This is what she responded: “I’ve written a lot about the Harlem Renaissance, and Grimké was its premier poet...her published poetry numbered about 40 pieces, I think, while the unpublished is the most erotic…I accessed the unpublished work from reading her journal, held at at the [Moorland Spingarn Research Center at Howard University], and in correspondence between her and her father, her closest female friend, Tessa Lee, her young classmate/friend/neighbor Mary Burrill, and many others...there is no published collection, which is a shame. I could put one together, and would love to, but I’m retired...I’ve got copies of Grimke’s poetry in alphabetical order in files I kept from my office...Again, thank you for contacting me, Tash, and do let me know how your newest project comes along. Good luck!” It seems like somebody needs to publish these poems! 😂 Photo from a 1923 publication, when she was 43 years young. A Quick Update From Me 🚀 When I’m not sinking my teeth into some juicy, erotic poetry from the 1920s, I’ve been working on setting up my online storefront, which should be done this week. In the meantime, if you want your copy of The Intimacy Journal, DM me on Instagram. Plus, next week, I’m giving my first external paid workshop at Soho House in Mexico City! I’m terrified, but in a good way. I think we will have the workshop inside, not by the fabulous pool, unfortunately: I hope you enjoyed this erotic invitation! Reply with your reflections. I’d love to hear them. Sending love, Tash 💌 ✍️ More From Misseducated 💌 ✍️ https://misseducated.substack.com/p/an-erotic-invitation-to-your-body https://misseducated.substack.com/p/what-is-it-like-to-orgasm-on-psilocybin https://misseducated.substack.com/p/on-dating-mexican-men https://misseducated.substack.com/p/how-to-be-shamelessly-sexy Get full access to Misseducated by Tash Doherty at misseducated.substack.com/subscribe

Hello Wonderful Reader, Today, I’ve chosen a very special unpublished poem and writing prompts for you to explore the power of forbidden love. You’ll discover why the poet never published this work in a second. So grab a pen and paper, and let’s uncover some of your juicy secrets… Evanescence (unpublished, 1920s) By Angelina Weld Grimké (1880 – 1958) You are like a pale purple flower    In the blue spring dusk . . . . . . You are like a yellow star Budding and glowing In an apricot sky . . . . . . You are like the beauty Of a voice . . . . . . Remembered after death . . . . . . You are like thin, white petals Falling           And                  Floating                                Down Upon the white, stilled hushing                 Of my soul. Source: Aphrodite’s Daughters: Three Modernist Poets of the Harlem Renaissance. Your 4 Writing Prompts on Forbidden Love 🩵 Write about any secret lovers you haven’t told anyone about. You are like the beauty Of a voice . . . . . . Remembered after death . . . . . . Write about a fragile love that the world tried to take away from you. You are like a pale purple flower In the blue spring dusk . . . . . . Write about falling for someone you weren’t supposed to. Falling           And          Floating                        Down Write about the small miracles that brought you and a forbidden lover together. “You are like a yellow star” The Backstory 📜 Uncovering the unpublished poems of Angelina Weld Grimké (1880-1958) I first heard of Angelina Weld Grimké while researching for The Intimacy Journal on poets.org. I discovered that she was a journalist, teacher, playwright, and poet, and an influential figure in the Harlem Renaissance, but much of Grimké’s intimate poetry remained unpublished during her lifetime. Why? Well, works like this week’s featured poem from the 1920s, “Evanescence,” were about same-sex relationships. This was culturally forbidden at the time. I ended up featuring two of her poems in The Intimacy Journal, because it was impossible to pick just one! Diving deeper into erotic poetry, I found a book that centered on Grimké’s work, called Aphrodite’s Daughters: Three Modernist Poets of the Harlem Renaissance. This was written by Professor Maureen Honey, who recently retired from The University of Nebraska-Lincoln after a 40-year career! She is 80 years old, and naturally, I sent her an email. This is what she responded: “I’ve written a lot about the Harlem Renaissance, and Grimké was its premier poet...her published poetry numbered about 40 pieces, I think, while the unpublished is the most erotic…I accessed the unpublished work from reading her journal, held at at the [Moorland Spingarn Research Center at Howard University], and in correspondence between her and her father, her closest female friend, Tessa Lee, her young classmate/friend/neighbor Mary Burrill, and many others...there is no published collection, which is a shame. I could put one together, and would love to, but I’m retired...I’ve got copies of Grimke’s poetry in alphabetical order in files I kept from my office...Again, thank you for contacting me, Tash, and do let me know how your newest project comes along. Good luck!” It seems like somebody needs to publish these poems! 😂 Photo from a 1923 publication, when she was 43 years young. A Quick Update From Me 🚀 When I’m not sinking my teeth into some juicy, erotic poetry from the 1920s, I’ve been working on setting up my online storefront, which should be done this week. In the meantime, if you want your copy of The Intimacy Journal, DM me on Instagram. Plus, next week, I’m giving my first external paid workshop at Soho House in Mexico City! I’m terrified, but in a good way. I think we will have the workshop inside, not by the fabulous pool, unfortunately: I hope you enjoyed this erotic invitation! Reply with your reflections. I’d love to hear them. Sending love, Tash 💌 ✍️ More From Misseducated 💌 ✍️ https://misseducated.substack.com/p/an-erotic-invitation-to-your-body https://misseducated.substack.com/p/what-is-it-like-to-orgasm-on-psilocybin https://misseducated.substack.com/p/on-dating-mexican-men https://misseducated.substack.com/p/how-to-be-shamelessly-sexy Get full access to Misseducated by Tash Doherty at misseducated.substack.com/subscribe

Send this to your lovely, literary lady friend 🫖 📚 Hello Wonderful Reader, Welcome back to Misseducated! I’m Tash, and today I’ve chosen a very special erotic poem and writing prompts for you to explore nature and your body, and how they interconnect. So grab a pen and paper, and let’s get started. North Wind By Lola Ridge (1873 – 1941) I love you, malcontent Male wind— Shaking the pollen from a flower Or hurling the sea backward from the grinning sand. Blow on and over my dreams. . . Scatter my sick dreams. . . Throw your lusty arms about me. . . Envelop all my hot body. . . Carry me to pine forests— Great, rough-bearded forests. . . Bring me to stark plains and steppes. . . I would have the North to-night— The cold, enduring North. And if we should meet the Snow, Whirling in spirals, And he should blind my eyes. . . Ally, you will defend me— You will hold me close, Blowing on my eyelids. Source: Poets.org. This poem is in the public domain. 🩵 Send this to your friend who has a thing for lumberjacks 🪵 👷‍♂️ Here are your four writing prompts: * Write about your sick dreams that you might be too ashamed to tell anyone about. “Blow on and over my dreams…Scatter my sick dreams…” * Start with any of the phrases that use ellipses and write your own story about what you wish the wind would do to you. “Throw your lusty arms around me…Envelop all my hot body…” * What would you have tonight if you got your way? “I would have the North to-night—” * Take features that you find attractive in your partners and pair them with your favorite places in nature. “Great, rough-bearded forests…” Send this to your hottest writing friend ✍️ About Lola Ridge (1873-1941) She was an Irish-born New Zealand-American anarchist and modernist poet, and an influential editor of avant-garde, feminist, and Marxist publications. I featured one of her poems for the “Nostalgia” chapter of The Intimacy Journal. Keeping the love flowing...(A quick update from me) Ever since I created The Intimacy Journal, I have become OBSESSED with erotic poetry written by women. Many works are in the public domain by poets who lived around a hundred years ago. When I read their work, everything clicks for me. I’m really enjoying the process of sharing and illustrating their work. It’s poignant. It’s dreamy. It’s delicious. And, it’s hot! I’m excited to see where this takes me. I know that some of you still want your own Intimacy Journal. Sorry that I have been slow to set up my online storefront since we finished the Kickstarter campaign. I’ll hopefully have that up and running in the next week or two. In the meantime, please respond to this email or comment if you want your copy, or DM me on Instagram. I hope you enjoyed this invitation! Reply with your reflections. I’d love to hear them. Sending love, Tash 💌 ✍️ It would be nice to see you around sometime! More From Misseducated 💌 ✍️ Get full access to Misseducated by Tash Doherty at misseducated.substack.com/subscribe

“I’m not enough,” I think to myself, as I pass a couple in love on the street. “I could never have a relationship like that. I’m not worthy. Even if someone liked me, they’d just get bored eventually and move on.” “I’m not enough,” I think to myself as I hit publish after writing an article all day. “I should have 5,000 subscribers by now. Then maybe my voice would matter.” Discover a more shamelessly sexy world 🌎 ✨ “I’m not enough,” I think to myself when I am mentioned in The New York Times. “That’s not a real feature. It’ll only count when I get a full-spread in The New Yorker.” “I’m not enough,” I say to my therapist, trembling and crying in front of my computer screen. It is right on the surface of my psyche, and in many ways, it is fundamental to who I am. Each time I achieve something, the goal post is suddenly flung out further in front of me, unreachable again. I do my best to achieve, achieve, achieve. Yet I metabolize my accolades and awards before I even get a second to enjoy them. My therapist tells me to work on my anger towards the adults who failed me in my childhood (who will remain anonymous). I know I feel angry, but I don’t know how that relates to this core belief about my self and my worth. That evening, I sit down on the crumpled corduroy green chair in my living room. I scroll back through the last three years of my text messages and rummage through decades of my memories. Those voices say to me: “Everyone thinks you’re a bad person.” “You’re so selfish.” “If you think I’m favoring them instead of you, it’s probably because you think your work isn’t enough.” I remember that last phone conversation. I saw red and told that person I needed a break from them. Then I didn’t speak to them for almost three months. I realize that since I started therapy, even if I didn’t believe I am enough, I’ve been acting as if I am. I’ve been telling people not to treat me disrespectfully anymore. I’ve been telling others that my needs matter and my feelings are real. When people say things to try to tear me down, I don’t accept their insults or tolerate their behavior. I stop believing outwardly that I deserve to be shouted at. But these most subtle and insidious beliefs are different. People bury them way down in there: a parent, a teacher, someone you trusted in your childhood to take care of you. I pull out my journal and delve deeper into this filth and arguing over the years. Then a new idea suddenly pops into my head. Maybe it was never about believing that I wasn’t enough. Maybe this other person is projecting their own pain and feelings of worthlessness onto me. Reinforced hundreds of times through our arguments over the years. Perhaps this is more about them, their opinions, and judgments of themselves. Perhaps this has nothing to do with me. Something in me is changing. Deep down inside myself, I find this large, jagged shard of glass, black and glinting. I wrench it out of me. I cut open the parts of me that had tried to heal over and around it. This monster, this cancer that had never been mine. I will not carry it around anymore. I look up from my text messages, and in my journal, I write: These are projections of low self-esteem. It has nothing to do with me or my worth. I’ve been carrying their belief about themselves as if it were a belief about me for decades. I look up at the clock. It is 11:47pm. In 13 minutes, it will be December 5th, 2025, my two-year birthday in ACA, my group therapy program for Adult Children of Alcoholics & Dysfunctional Families. It has taken me two years of deep self-reflection and analysis to yank out that shard of glass. The new, empty wound leaves a void inside of me, slowly healing. In our next session, my therapist asks me what I am going to do with this information. I tell her I am not sure. Yet over the next few days, things begin to reveal themselves and unravel. The load I am carrying feels lighter. “I am happy for them,” I think to myself now, when I’m at a party, and I see a couple. “Look at them, so deeply in love.” “What a beautiful book I have made,” I think to myself when people ask me what I do, and I pull out a copy. “I can’t wait to mention the designs, inspired by the architectural details of Mexico City.” “It’s amazing!” I think to myself now, when I receive my first payment for books I have sold. “I can pay at least a couple of months of my rent!” “They must be hurting,” I think to myself now, when someone says something vicious to me. “This is unacceptable and has nothing to do with me.” Perhaps the difference is only in my mind, but it does alter how I see the world. I realize I do not want to be living any other way. That this life, of writing and creating, my chosen life in Mexico, is the best life for me. Art. Architecture. Writing. Poetry. Film. Flowers. This is a real and beautiful way to live. I have conviction. I have pride. I feel like I am getting closer to the woman I have always dreamed of becoming, sitting in that beautiful office with the white walls, the ornate plaster fastenings, and the tall windows. And an Eames chair or two. The people in my childhood who tried to keep me small and break my spirit are dead to me now. I do not wish they were dead, but I am not waiting for them to die before I let myself live. I am living now. Not entertaining their viciousness. Not playing it low and small so that I don’t threaten them with my brightness. Some core beliefs about ourselves take 31 years to change. Four years of therapy. Two years of reparenting myself in ACA. Two years to wrench out that shard of glass. But here I am, in Mexico City, writing, creating, living the life I’ve always dreamed of. I am enough. 💌 ✍️ Send this to your most shameless friend! 🚀 The Top 5 Misseducated Articles of 2025! 💌 ✍️ Come back for more later! 💌 ✍️ Get full access to Misseducated by Tash Doherty at misseducated.substack.com/subscribe

Hello Wonderful Readers, I feel excited and quite nervous about sharing this update with you. Since launching The Intimacy Journal, I’ve learned a lot about how I want to provide value to you and live my mission to help the world be shamelessly sexy. TL;DR * All Misseducated Substack content will be 100% free from now on. This weekend I ungated 43 articles in the Archive. If you find a Comments section that’s still behind the paywall, please let me know, and I will remove it. * I hope to keep publishing at a cadence of around 2 articles per month, but that could range from 1 to 4 posts. I enjoy publishing on Tuesdays, but will no longer be strict about it. * From now on, I am implementing the “buy-me-a-coffee” model for my paid subscribers. I will no longer be creating any special paid subscriber content. I will not be offended AT ALL if you stop paying for your subscription because of this, or if you stopped paying in the past. Please feel free to cancel guilt-free right now. I am nothing but grateful to you! Thank you for whatever you were able to give. * If you would like to keep contributing, you will be supporting a more shamelessly sexy world, helping me keep the lights on, and ensuring that my sexuality content stays free and accessible for everyone. * This is what the Misseducated Subscription page now looks like (in $USD): Come back for more! 💜 The Truth Of It All I’ve realized that paywalling my content on Misseducated is no longer serving you, me, or my mission. It’s taken me months to actually implement this change because doing this scares the s**t out of me. But I’ve known for a while now that this is the right thing to do. Firstly, I want to thank my existing paid subscribers. Over the last three and a half years, since I quit my corporate media job in New York, you have helped me build a new life for myself. You gave me my first few dollars of validation as a “professional writer”. You gave me the courage to keep going. Still, offering two tiers of content has always been extremely challenging for me as a one-woman show. Especially with the regular cadence that newsletters require, for too long now, I’ve felt guilty and stressed out for not delivering good enough content to you. Switching to a “buy-me-a-coffee” model allows you to still support a more shamelessly sexy world if you want to, and allows me the freedom to create the most impactful work that’s accessible to everyone. Secondly, I’ve realized that to help the world be shamelessly sexy, I need to be a truly open book as a writer. I originally paywalled my more sexually explicit content. Maybe I didn’t want my dad and his friends reading that I like butt stuff. Or maybe I felt, like some sex-writer-worker, that people should have to pay to access these deeply personal details of my life. But as I’ve grown, I’ve come to the realization that I just don’t give a f**k. I want anyone, anywhere, to benefit from this blog if it can help them. Gatekeeping just doesn’t float my boat anymore, and I’m not going to live my life in arbitrary fear of other people’s judgment. Thirdly, I’m enjoying productizing things my readers want a lot more than I thought I would. Creating The Intimacy Journal was SO much fun. It’s a standalone purchase that people can get if they want to deepen their practice, and I’m extremely proud of it. Energetically, I feel a lot more confident and excited to provide value to you through books and workshops than I do about consistently creating special paid subscriber newsletter content. Fourthly (if that’s even a word?), I noticed that when I speak on podcasts, I’m sharing all the personal details that were behind the paywall on Misseducated anyway. Check out the 111 podcast episodes I’ve spoken on, with over 42 hours of episodes here. Those podcast listeners have had the full story, but I haven’t been offering the same to you. So I want to make your access to my content limitless. Additionally, while rereading some articles over the weekend, I rediscovered many ridiculous things I’ve written, which I hope you’ll find funny. I can’t wait for you to enjoy those stories fully, too. The last thing that truly impacted my decision was a conversation I had recently with a male Misseducated reader. He said that while he likes reading my blog, he had really been curious about the article, “I Pegged My Boyfriend,” but had never read it because it was paywalled. That hit home for me. I thought: Why? In that article, I make some very important points about why we need to allow men to be able to show weakness and sensitivity. With the paywall, I was denying him the opportunity to explore his masculinity and preventing that article from reaching its full impact in the world. So, paywalls be gone! For those of you who have been waiting patiently, here is a short list of my top five now-ungated articles you might enjoy: * The 4 Categories of Porn I Watch, and Why * I Pegged My Boyfriend * My BDSM Test Results * Why I Never Swallow Cum * My Hard Biological Truth You can check out the full list of 43 now-free articles below. Trust me, there’s plenty of spice and juicy details to go around! That’s enough for now! Thank you for trusting me and for sticking along for the ride. I’m so grateful and excited for the next chapter. Please feel free to reach out to me if you have any questions, concerns, or if you gain any new insights from reading one of the articles below. Hehe. Sending love, Tash 💌✍️ The Full List of 43 New-Ungated Articles 🪅 * The 4 Categories of Porn I Watch, and Why * I Pegged My Boyfriend * My BDSM Test Results * Love & Dreams * The Strangest Date I Ever Went On * Starting The New Year Off With A Bang * On Top Of The World * Sex In The London Library * I Kissed A Girl And I Liked It * Misseducated Update: What’s In The Works * Welcome to the Misseducated Community! Please introduce yourself here so we can say hello :) * Back To Where We First Met * Why I Never Swallow Cum * How To Keep Your Creative Dreams Alive * I had casual sex. * On Withholding Sex From Men * Burnout and Book Cover Reveal! * I finished writing my first novel! ✨✍️ * How To Make An Audiobook * Peach Tulips: Almost Off To The Printers ✨ 📚 * When No One Comes To Mind * Zoom Crush * Girl Crush * 💖 Sexico City 🌃 * 💖 Sexico City Update 🌃 * My Hard Biological Truth * The Little Things * Somebody to Love * The 64 Traits of My Ideal Mate * What I Learned Hosting A Sex Writing Workshop * My Hard, Biological Truth, Part 2 * The scene that took me 13 years to write * How to Overcome the Fear of Success * Does Penis Size Matter? * Liar, Liar * The Wrath of Seeing Your Ex * My Ego Stroke of a Lifetime * How To Not Care What Other People Think * The Dog Cage * That’s all from Misseducated in 2024! * My Sex Toy Collection Revealed * Announcing: The Misseducated Sex Journal! * My Week-Long, Creative Orgasm Get full access to Misseducated by Tash Doherty at misseducated.substack.com/subscribe

Hello Wonderful Readers, I’m writing to you with some equally wonderful news. The Intimacy Journal has just been funded on Kickstarter! We’ve accomplished this in just 12 days. What a glorious day this is. Thank you so much for being here. Thank you for supporting my work. Thank you for encouraging me and indulging me in bringing this beautiful project to life. It has truly been an honor to steward these poems and birth this book. I can’t wait for many more of you to get your hands on a copy! To celebrate you all and help spread the word, I’m gifting you a free chapter of the journal today. When I’ve discussed the book in workshops, many people are intrigued by the chapter on “Deviance.” This makes me smile. It’s a cheeky testament to the human spirit, I guess, to want to go deeper and get curious about our true nature. Loving all parts of who we are. So, without further ado, please click here to download the “Deviance” chapter. What is the origin story of the “Deviance” chapter? 🌅 I originally had the poem “Rendezvous” by Edna St. Vincent Millay for this chapter. I liked that the poem mentioned perversion and coming, but when I tested out the poem in a sex writing workshop, ultimately, I found the language in it a little inaccessible. Meanwhile, I also got some reader feedback on the first draft of the journal, and I decided to write a little bio for each poet I featured. That’s when things got interesting. I already had another poem by Amy Lowell in the book (“Summer Rain” for the chapter on Safety). And soon after searching for a new poem for Deviance, I found her poem, “The Weather-Cock Points South.” I loved the vivid imagery in it, especially the beautiful idea of someone parting you from your leaves. This poem resonated with me even more when I discovered that modern scholars view it as a celebration of lesbian sexuality. I then learned that Amy Lowell lived openly with her partner, Ada Dwyer Russell. This poem was published in 1921, and among others by Angelina Weld Grimké, this was a time when same-sex relationships and expressions of love were totally forbidden. I thought about just how much these women had risked to live a lifestyle that was true to them. Amy Lowell, in particular, reminded me to stand up for myself and not give a f**k about what other people think. So, I topped her poem off with an introductory quip from Dorothy Parker, and created the chapter you see today in its current form. According to the Oxford Languages Dictionary, Deviance is “the fact or state of departing from usual or accepted standards, especially in social or sexual behavior.” It’s juicy and delicious, isn’t it? I think it’s something I’d like to explore and delve deeper into in the future. While this poem is kind and feminine, I wonder what it would be like to introduce a poem and prompts that might focus more on even more taboo BDSM activities, kinks, etc. Still, for now, I am grateful to share Amy Lowell’s work and guide the reader through a more gentle and nurturing introduction to these more playful aspects of ourselves. What do you think of the poem and the prompts? Is there a different question you wished I had asked? What does Deviance mean to you? Please also enjoy the audiobook segment of the chapter. Sending love to you all! We did it! Tash 💌 ✍️ Free Chapter: Deviance 😈 More From Misseducated 💌 ✍️ Get full access to Misseducated by Tash Doherty at misseducated.substack.com/subscribe

Dear Wonderful Readers, It’s the moment many of you have been patiently waiting for: The Intimacy Journal is officially live on Kickstarter! 🚀 And we are already 25% funded! Thank you so much to everyone who has already supported us. If you’d like to join us, you can back the project to get your own Intimacy Journal, gift a journal to a friend, join our workshops, or book a one-on-one writing session with me. Check out our project video and all the options here: The seeds of this book were planted almost a year and a half ago, when I first heard Peppur Chambers read her poem, “Can I?”, at an open mic with The London Writers’ Salon (Writers' Hour Magazine). I invited Peppur to read her work in my first sex writing workshop. It was beautiful and daring for those of us who shared what we wrote. I felt like we had stumbled across something magical. I realized that writing openly about my sex life here for you all on Misseducated has taught me a lot. I learned more about my desires, my pleasures, my kinks, and my fantasies. I learned that writing is a powerful tool to connect us with the erotic. As I shared more in “How to be Shamelessly Sexy” and “How to Keep A Sex Journal,” I realized that I had a unique opportunity to create something that you all might just love. A journal that each of you could fill with your innermost, spiciest thoughts! I will admit something: I underestimated the joy that creating this project would give me, and that I could complete it so quickly. Writing my novel required a specific kind of marathon in terms of the creative process, spanning 14 years for me in total. Yet since I started working full-time on this project at the beginning of July, from start to finish, it has taken me almost four months (which included my one month of road-tripping and mountain escapades in the Western US, by the way). Putting this journal together for you has been a surprisingly sweet and pure joy. It brought me to new heights of creative euphoria, and I finished the first draft within 30 days. My soundtrack for this entire experience was the instrumental “aubades” album by Jean-Michel Blais. He’s an absolute legend, and I’ve listened to this on repeat hundreds of times: While I’ve been quiet on here over the last few weeks, I bulldozed through a lot of extremely stressful yet tedious logistics, such as negotiating with printers and navigating the bureaucratic Mexican tax stuff, so that I could deliver your copies to you with ample time for the holiday gift-giving season. With an awesome creative team from Sustancia MX, and amazing contemporary voices, including Peppur’s, somehow we did it! I’ll update you more on that later, as the book also features lovely poems by Abigail A Mlinar Burns, of Happy Endings and Ozy Aloziem. Come back for more! 😉 🫦 Launching a book in four months is a pretty crazy thing to do. But when you get a strong sense of conviction about a project, like I did with this journal, there’s simply no time to waste. You only have a little window of the universe’s offering of timing, luck, and good fortune. So you just have to go for it. That’s how I felt with this project. I just knew I wanted to be the person to create this. And here we are. Words of Praise for The Intimacy Journal ✨ 🌿 I’m honored to share that two of my idols, Cindy Gallop and Anna Lee, have given short book reviews of The Intimacy Journal: “We could all do with asking ourselves more questions - especially the questions that we would never think to ask ourselves. Tash Doherty’s Intimacy Journal is a wonderful way to explore and get intimate with yourself, to improve and increase intimacy with others, while enjoying some amazing poetry along the way. The perfect gift for someone you love to love them more - yourself.” - Cindy Gallop, Founder & CEO of MakeLoveNotPorn; Author of Dear Cindy. “As someone who’s always advocated for understanding pleasure through self-reflection, I love how The Intimacy Journal fuses introspective journaling with erotic curiosity. Tash’s prompts push you to think—and feel—more deeply.” – Anna Lee, Co-founder & CEO, lioness.io, (S)explore by Lioness. More about The Intimacy Journal 📕💋 The Intimacy Journal is an erotic poetry anthology and guided journal with 20 days of writing prompts to help you awaken your shamelessly sexy self. It’s a tool to explore your love life and your turn-ons, and define sexual intimacy, fantasy, desire, and pleasure on your own terms. This is not something you can find on Amazon with a best seller’s rank! This is an independent creative project, inspired by and brought to you from Mexico City. This is quite a full-circle moment for me. I never could have imagined, while living in New York and working my desk job, that one day I would be creating a tool that helps people use my favorite thing, writing, to explore physical intimacy with themselves and others. I cannot thank you enough for being here! It’s honestly so much fun to be able to share this with you. Writing this blog for you has taken a certain amount of grit and vulnerability over these last few years. I am so grateful you are here and along for the ride. Sending love, Tash 💌 ✍️ p.s. Here’s a photo of me with Rahsa Dezmen, the author of the poem “Open”, which you can find in the last chapter of The Intimacy Journal, for the theme of “Evolution”. She did a reading of her work at the book launch I hosted on my rooftop in Mexico City on Sunday night! Get full access to Misseducated by Tash Doherty at misseducated.substack.com/subscribe

Hello, wonderful readers. I am taking a break from Misseducated in the coming weeks as I focus on The Intimacy Journal, which will be launching on Kickstarter very soon. I can’t wait for you to get your hands on a copy! 💌 ✍️ Introduction 🎬 “I’ve been faking it for years!” — My grandmother. The other day, I had four pretty sensational orgasms with a male partner. Yet for many years, I found sex boring. I’d often look up at the ceiling, waiting for it to be over. I’ve never faked a whole orgasm, but sometimes I shout a little louder or say dirty things to help get my partner over the edge. In fact, 55% of women (The Hite Report) have faked an orgasm at least once in their lives. In this article, we’ll explore the culture of fake orgasms, how to do it, and how to have tough conversations with your partner so you can get the real sexual pleasure you deserve. Get ready, stay ready! 🥳 Why do we fake orgasms? 🪅 According to these two studies, the most common reasons are the following, and in any combination: * To avoid conflict and not hurt a partner’s feelings (chosen by 78% of respondents). * To please our partner (chosen by 47% of respondents) and gain positive consequences, like being seen as good in bed. * To avoid feeling bad that we’re not orgasming, or we accept that orgasming is unlikely for us. * Feeling tired, bored with the sex (lol), wanting to end intercourse, or being intoxicated. * Because we hope it will turn us on more. * Because we may falsely believe that females need to orgasm in order for our (male) partners to feel satisfied and receive pleasure. Interestingly, women who have anti-feminist values are more likely to fake female orgasms than others. Is it more common for women than men to fake it? 🕺 Yes, in heterosexual partnerships, women fake orgasms more than men, but a significant number of men do it too (who knows how they can pretend to ejaculate). In one study, about 25% of men and 50% of women admitted to faking orgasms overall, while 28% of men and 67% of women specifically said they faked orgasm during penile-vaginal intercourse. Why should you never fake an orgasm? 🤐 “Liar, liar, pants on fire. Except your underpants won’t be on fire, because your pleasure-ometer will be stuck at zero.” — Tash Doherty As far as I’m concerned, faking an orgasm is a form of lying, and it is a sexual sin. I liken it to “The Spelling Test Analogy.” Imagine you give your partner a spelling test. If they get 10/10 correct on this spelling test, you get 5 of the most earth-shattering orgasms you’ve ever had in your life. You read out each word, and this is how he spells them: * Anatomie * Dalightful * Fewshia * Acommodate * Naushous * Liason * Hapy * Delishous * Apertment * Bare with me First of all, you shouldn’t be dating a guy who can’t spell “happy.” Still, by faking it, you score your partner 10/10 on this test, when they actually got 0! Now they have no opportunity to learn, and you also have no real orgasms that you deserve. And if you say something like, “Well, I feel bad for him. Every woman is different. That’s too much for him to learn how to spell my words,” please, for the love of God, scrape your self-esteem off the floor and remember that spelling and satisfying a woman are both useful skills that are going to serve this person in many areas of their life. Share “The Spelling Test Analogy” 🤭 It’s time to stop doing a disservice to yourself, every other female out there, and all his partners that will come after you (or not come, because you have left them with a fundamental misunderstanding of how the female body works). How can I stop faking orgasms and ask for what I want? “The clearer we are about what we want, the more likely it is that we’ll get it.” — Marshall Rosenberg, Non-Violent Communication. Your partner is not a mind reader or a wizard after all, so they’ll need directions so they can get to the destination of their dreams: your pleasure. Asking for what you want is one of the core principles on your journey to becoming shamelessly sexy. Firstly, it’s important to understand what you want and how you define success in your sex life. Do you want to orgasm every time you’re with your partner, or multiple times even? Are there role-plays, scenarios, or techniques you would like to try? Do you want to try anal or different sex positions? If your partner is not willing to use toys or they are not willing to experiment with you, you may need to be prepared to walk away from this relationship. Secondly, identify the conditions you would need to achieve this. For example, to orgasm, do you need silence? Do you need to lie on your back with no time pressure, or would you prefer to have a countdown clock? Do you need to not be tired? If you’re not sure where to start, try Dr. Laurie Mintz’s solution: transfer the techniques that you use to pleasure yourself to your sexual activities with your partner. That includes your favorite setting on your vibrator, which you should bring to your partner’s house next time. Thirdly, you have to believe that you deserve what you want. If your partner ever makes you feel bad about wanting to bring sex toys into your foreplay, stop right there and seriously consider whether this is a healthy relationship for you to be in. Don’t waste your time with a person who belittles you to avoid addressing their own insecurities and inadequacies. Normal men want to please women. How else can I talk this through with my partner without hurting their ego? * Ask to experiment with other things that don’t involve penetrative sex. A male partner may get off simply by watching you get off for real. * Change his perspective on sex toys. As Dr. Laurie Mintz states, sex toys are like power tools. They don’t replace men; they just help you get the job done faster. * Ask for what would make your life awesome. As Non-Violent Communication suggests, “Making requests in clear, positive, concrete language reveals what we really want.” Rather than tell your partner, “I don’t really like that,” make a specific request that they can take action on, like, “Could you eat me out for ten minutes before we have sex? Here is my vibrator, and this is my favorite setting. This is how you can help me have an orgasm by using it.” Then demonstrate specific hand movements to him. * Be honest and patient. If your male partner wants you to orgasm, he’s going to need to work for that. If you are tired and want sex to end, it is perfectly acceptable to call it off and let the man come at another point in time. If they’re getting frustrated or discouraged, try to improve their mindset. Share that pleasuring you is a practice that your partner can learn and improve at over time (inspired by Heidi Grant Halvorson’s talk). Also, remember that it’s not your job to make him come every time you have sex, either. * Get the facts straight. As I wrote about in How to Achieve Orgasm Equality (one of my top posts), only 18.4% of women can orgasm from penetration alone, which is the sexual minority. This means that the vast majority of us can’t, which includes me, by the way. Instead, we need lots of the correct kind of clitoral stimulation. There is a large orgasm gap in heterosexual couples that doesn’t exist for gay or lesbian couples. In heterosexual relationships, male pleasure is prioritized for a variety of reasons. For example, we limit the definition of “sex” to describe a penis entering a vagina, leaving out oral sex and bundling the beginning stuff into “foreplay”, which is actually THE MAIN COURSE for most women. Save this checklist for later 🩵 The Truth Of The Matter 🍷 If I’ve been faking for a long time, how do I tell my partner the truth? What should I say? 🤥 This is about you reclaiming your right to pleasure more than anything else. Being honest and apologizing goes a long way. First, pick out some examples of when you faked it when you were genuinely tired, and admit to your partner that you don’t want to do that again. Your partner’s reaction will probably depend on their level of emotional intelligence. Here are two scenarios: * Your partner is emotionally intelligent, cares about your sexual needs, and is genuinely open to feedback. First, admit to them that they’re going to feel disappointed with what you’re about to tell them, and maybe a bit embarrassed. Then blame yourself, at least in part, by stating that you learned to fake orgasms to please your shitty ex-boyfriend (whoever he was) or that you learned it from porn. Tell your partner that you’re now unlearning this behavior, and you’re sorry for lying to them. Share that you know that having a happy sex life is important for your wellness and the long-term success of your relationship, which is why you’re sharing this now. Hopefully, they will be receptive yet disappointed, but ultimately motivated to relearn your pleasure together, after you emphasize that you need their help. “In my experience as an educator and a therapist, most men…actually want to please women and are happy for information on how to do that.” — Dr. Laurie Mintz, Becoming Cliterate. * Your partner is not emotionally intelligent and doesn’t listen to you. I’ve been there. Some dudes genuinely believe their dick has magical powers. They’ll respond to your concerns like: “Well, you enjoyed it so many times before. Why are you lying to me now?” How nice of him to try to wear your self-esteem down, too. It may take you a while to realize it, but this kind of partner will never truly care about or meet your long-term needs. It may be time to call it off and find a partner who cares about pleasuring you. What if I’ve never had a real orgasm? How do I even know what’s real? 🥴 This is why faking orgasms is wrong: it dissociates us from what our bodies

As a single, childless 30-year-old woman, I don't have all the answers. Still, I've found my role in the village: being a supportive auntie to young women navigating topics they’d rather not discuss with their parents. This all started when I worked with teenage girls one summer a couple of years ago. I realized that while I’d been stumbling through my twenties, trying to hold down my jobs and avoid financial ruin, I’d actually learned a few things about the female experience that could be valuable to them. These girls were 15 and were just starting to have their first relationships. That got me thinking. Getting pregnant in your teens when you don’t want to be is a big freaking deal. Soon, I was pulling them aside and saying, “If you ever need Plan B or anything else, just let me know.” Then I typed my number into their phones. Send this to your most responsible female friend, lol 🥸 When I said “anything,” I meant help sorting out gynecological issues, periods, relationships, emergencies, or understanding how to use substances like alcohol, weed, or drugs safely. If I lived in their town, maybe I could accompany them to their first OBGYN appointment or something like that. Basically, it’s all the stuff that’s part of growing up, that you can’t talk to your parents about and fear people might judge you for (hello shame!) Here are my six tips to help you have these conversations as a supportive auntie: * Listen and validate in a nonjudgmental way 🎧 I only offer advice if they actually agree to needing it. Sometimes, it’s just about being there to validate their experiences and their pain, and confirm that having female reproductive organs is awful sometimes. Because the medical system ignores a lot of women’s health symptoms, I always acknowledge their pain first because for them it is real. For example, I’d listen and try to empathize with the side effects she experienced from taking the pill and why she stopped, before rushing in to freak her out that she could get pregnant because she’s not on birth control. * Err on the side of over-sharing your experiences 🙆‍♀️ Your experiences of having periods, being pregnant, or trying different birth control methods could be gold to a teenager’s ears. Plus, you may have the only honest, real-life experience from a vagina-owning person they can learn from. I take my role pretty seriously, and I provide the honest, juicy details. Pain is obviously subjective, but I try to be honest and not sugar-coat things like my period cramp pain, my IUD insertion, or the red flags of men in my previous relationships, especially around addiction, so I can help them notice the signs to look out for. * Be subtle and cautious to maintain a respectful balance ⚖️ Yes, it’s a paradox, but you have to assume they may know very little, but then ultimately respect whatever decision they choose to make. I go with the idea that I’m giving them pretty unusual information on an important topic, so I just bring them aside once a year as a reminder if they need anything, and then I respect their choices. * Beware of age-appropriateness 🫣 I’ve found the age difference of 10-15 years to be ideal, but there is also such a thing as too young. For example, I had to remove my 11-year-old cousin as my follower on TikTok because my blog’s content about orgasms didn’t seem appropriate. Once she’s 14 years old, I’ll be sure to pull her aside at the next family function. Dr. Lisa Damour said on the Re: Thinking Podcast, “The data give us a pretty strong sense that the single most powerful force for adolescent mental health is strong relationships with caring adults…Healthy teenagers are meaningfully connected to adults. Bosses, mentors, aunts, uncles. It doesn’t matter if it’s not your kid. You are responsible for all the teenagers in your community and for having meaningful relationships with them.” You’re not their primary support system or a replacement for their therapist. But given that you’re an adult, you can help guide them towards professionals who could help with tough subjects like mental health, abuse, or addiction, etc., when necessary. * Don’t waver in supporting them 🌊 Young people need to be able to learn their own boundaries and make mistakes. Without anything too serious happening, trying out substances and exploring sex are normal parts of growing up. As Simon Sinek cheesily said on the Design Matters Podcast, “Leadership is a human enterprise. It’s not about being in charge, it’s about taking care of those in your charge...where you take responsibility that the people in your charge learn confidence, gain a skillset, have the opportunity to try and fall and try again, and discover that they were capable of more than they thought they were capable of. They cannot do that without someone who says, “I believe in you.”” * Create the culture you want to see in the world 🌎 This is your chance to own these conversations, demystifying and de-stigmatizing as you go. Before you dive into being a supportive auntie, it might help to reflect on your own experiences of these conversations and think critically about how you want to approach them differently for this generation. It’s a great way to work through any shame you might have, which we know is a fundamental part of being shamelessly sexy. The ACA Serenity Prayer captures this well: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change, the courage to change the one I can, and the wisdom to know that one is me.” Conclusion 👀 I hope this piece resonated with you and that you feel encouraged to steward a young person in your life through these issues. And remember that simply by having lived longer, you may have something to offer. I’ve found this to be both a meaningful and healing part of adulthood. If you’re able to break the cycles of shame and secrecy in your important relationships, I hope you get to experience the same. Have a great rest of your week, and I’ll be back soon with some updates about the sex journal’s Kickstarter, which I hope will launch on October 1st! Stay up to date on the sex journal launch! 🚀 Love, Tash 💌 ✍️ Song pairing to get you in the teen vibe: More From Misseducated 💌 ✍️ Get full access to Misseducated by Tash Doherty at misseducated.substack.com/subscribe

For me, mastering the art of no-strings-attached sex was a total accident. Since I first wrote about dating Mexican men, I’ve been looking for a boyfriend on Bumble (i.e., a long-term, monogamish relationship). While my profile says I’m looking for “a fun, serious relationship with someone who lives in Mexico City,” that endeavor has proven to be very difficult. So I’ve been making casual pit stops into random men’s pants to maintain my sanity and have a little fun. Today I’m going to share my very pseudo-scientific logic on how women aren’t destined to be bonded forever to every guy we fucked. Come back for more…😋 The Logic This process only works if you are 100% honest with yourself when it comes to the question: “Is he long-term relationship material?” To answer this question efficiently is a skill that you can build with time. It means not living in a fantasy land, and being realistic about the logistics of where you both live, who this person is, and what you are looking for. The more men I’ve dated, the faster I come across deal-breakers. I no longer get hung up on workaholics, alcoholics, potheads, nomadic douchebags, men who tell me they have a thing for blondes, men who don’t text me back, men who are only in my city for a good time (not a long time), men fresh out of a relationship, or men who can’t make me laugh. Instead, I pay very close attention to what these men say to me on our dates, what they are not saying, and how they act. If they don’t show genuine interest in me, or a desire to connect or care, I don’t think twice about it. I move on. Of course, sometimes I wish a hot, smart, rich guy were more available, but I can’t change that, and I don’t have enough time to sit around and wait for them to fix themselves or like me more. If I want to have sex with them, I do it to enjoy myself and nothing more. If you’re not sure if a guy is long-term relationship material, and you might want a deeper connection with him, I recommend you withhold sex from them until you figure that out. Meet up again at a later point in time, and assess whether he meets your long-term relationship criteria in a different setting. Send this to a girlfriend who unfortunately needs to hear this 😬 The Other Essentials 1. Make a good dating profile 📲 After tweaking mine for months, I’ve finally got it down. Below are the screenshots of my Bumble profile, which helps me match with lots of hot and interesting men. So, yes, you have to put yourself out there, and having a stellar dating profile is a great way to do that. If you only have old or uninteresting pictures of yourself, take some new ones and improve your profile over time. 2. Know what you want 🤓. “I date younger men for sex. I want lots of stamina and very short recovery periods. I don’t get those with men my own age.” — Cindy Gallop, Style Like U. I selected “Wants kids” and “Long-term relationship” on my Bumble profile. But the men I match with rarely read this, and I’m sure they just swipe anyway to see what they can get away with. That’s fine with me. I can have sex with someone simply because I want to. Read “How to be Shamelessly Sexy” to learn more. 3. Be smart about it 💡. “Freedom without insulation is just exposure. To unwanted pregnancies. To STIs. To men who don’t believe in foreplay or boundaries. To misinterpreted power dynamics, coercion dressed up as flirtation, and full-blown abuse." - Casual Sex is a Rich Woman’s Sport, ensainte. Obviously get birth control, use condoms, or just brace yourself for the fact that you might need to take Plan B. So make sure this is something you can invest in and do. And if it isn’t, then screw it. Go focus on your career. 4. Be realistic 🔍. You know what is going to save your ass? Using logic and being honest with yourself about who this guy is. Not who you wish he was or who you imagine him to be when he gets a fancy job. If a man has selected that he’s looking for “Fun casual dates” and “Intimacy without commitment” on his Bumble profile (see how casual sex is codified in our culture?), I use that extremely useful information, and I don’t try to change him. 5. Dip into the science 🧪. Firstly, the popular claim that “women bond more after sex” is not supported by human data. While women can have much higher baseline oxytocin levels than men (up to 3x higher (Marazziti et al. 2019)), this can vary; human bonding is way more complex than just oxytocin levels. Both sexes use oxytocin for bonding through different mechanisms and timing, and the oxytocin response during orgasm shows no significant gender differences (Carmichael et al. 1987, the OG study). I said what I said. 6. Decide you don’t want to be in love, or if you must be, choose the right person 🧍. “The moment you decide you don’t want to be in love, that just cuts a whole layer of crap out of your life.” — Cindy Gallop, Style Like U. I believe falling in love with someone is a choice. You can choose who you fall in love with, who you give your energy to, and who you give the time of day. If you do really want to be in love with someone, then be sure to follow the Promises of the ACA 12-Step Program: “We will choose to love people who can love and be responsible for themselves.” 7. Confront your shame 🫣. Remember that shame is a normal human emotion, and it’s something you can work on as part of the journey to being shamelessly sexy. I felt ashamed last year when I had sex with a guy in my friend group, and he never really messaged me back. What I should have done was just forgiven myself and called it quits emotionally the moment the sex was over. We had sex. That was it. I didn’t want or need anything else from this person, and I don’t even need his validation. 8. Beware of your weaknesses 🏰. If you start developing feelings for someone you hardly know after you’ve just had sex with them, I highly encourage you to speak to a professional. For example, when guys don’t message me back, I feel anxious and more attracted to them. Through therapy, 12-Step work, and analyzing my daddy issues, I’ve learned that I get addicted to excitement. It might feel like this guy is the one, but this is a pattern that I’ve witnessed with myself over and over. If I’m still hanging onto him, I give myself a couple extra doses of self-compassion, and then I move on. 9. Get your orgasms in 💦. I don’t care who you are having sex with; your pleasure is a priority. Read “How to Achieve Orgasm Equality” and “The Ultimate Guide to Having an Incredible One Night Stand” and be sure to bring your toys. So, there you have it! My guide to having good, quick, fun, unemotionally attached sex. Let me know which tip was your favorite in the comments! Love, Tash 💌 ✍️ p.s. Behold, my Bumble Profile! 👀 🐝 Come join me and be shamelessly sexy! 🫦 Get full access to Misseducated by Tash Doherty at misseducated.substack.com/subscribe

Dear Wonderful Readers, We did it! The first draft of The Sex Journal is done, and headed to the printers today! It’s 140 pages long, so my estimate of 70 sheets at the printers was bang on. As I write this, I realize I’m probably going to regret not having any reader feedback before printing the first draft. Still, I look forward to learning that lesson the hard way when I return in August to examine the samples. It’s not too late to sign up to be a beta reader of The Sex Journal! My offer still stands: * If you’re a free subscriber, you can get 3 months of Misseducated’s paid tier comped in exchange for your feedback * If you’re a paid subscriber, you’ll get a discount on the final journal once it’s released I’ll be back in late August with more updates about starting preorders. If you’re truly dying to get your copy and don’t want to miss a second of updates, you can respond “Preorder!” to this email, and I will put you on a special separate list. Share this with your favorite person… Let me just say, if there’s one thing I’ve learned through this process, it’s that creating a journal is WAY easier than writing a novel. WAY easier. It took me two years to complete the first draft of my novel, and 14 years to publish it. I completed the first draft of the sex journal in about a month. It’s insanely faster. I’m grateful for that. A month ago, I looked at this pretty massive mountain in front of me and I thought: how the f**k am I going to do this? Well, it’s been quite the creative rollercoaster, but somehow I pulled it together. For anyone who wants to try this at home, I’d recommend making your project your full-time job temporarily, picking an absolutely ridiculous deadline that you’re not sure you can meet, and of course choosing to focus on a project that you are actually dying to do. I think the fact that I want this sex journal to exist and I have a seriously limited amount of time to create it before I go on holiday / run out of money has been the perfect recipe for getting s**t done. It enabled me to blast through any and all gatekeepers and limitations that were standing in my way. Now, I am not going to lie. I’m absolutely fried right now. I really wanted to write a funny, actually useful article for you today, but my brain is literally shutting down. On this home stretch, I’ve started sending emails to potential clients with spelling errors! For me, this is a small travesty and a sign. I can’t go on. The good news is that I have SO many fun upcoming articles planned for you. Here are a few hints: * “My 5 Kinks and Why”: I want to revisit a classic topic and delve deeper into the quirky psychologies I developed in my childhood. Thank you, Freud! * “The Hot Gal’s Guide to Sex in Mexico City”: Echoing my piece about dating Mexican men, I’m creating a guide for the girls, the gays, and the theys (à la Blakely Thornton) based on my experiences of living in Mexico City for three years as a single person wedged in the dating scene. This guide will be full of local lore that you can’t find anywhere else, including which locations, bars, restaurants, and gyms you should frequent, depending on the type of person you’re looking to bang. This piece makes me smile every time I think about it. * “We are the village”: This will be a more tender piece about how we can shamelessly support the young women in our lives with issues like sex, birth control, and healthy romantic relationships. I’ll be coining an unscientific term of “life auntie”, a role which I’ve accidentally taken on. It’s an ode to remembering that we matter when it comes to being there for younger people. It’s also an antidote to the insanely uncertain shitstorm of the world right now, because it’s a direct impact we can have on the lives of others and something we can control. * Do you have a burning question or a topic you want me to write about? Leave me a comment, a DM, or a quick response to this email, and I’ll make it happen. The bad news is that I am indeed going on holiday for almost a month. You can expect the next Misseducated update from me on Tuesday, August 19th. I know that is an age away. I will miss you because I love writing this newsletter. But the truth is that aside from the week-long creative orgasm of my sex journal, I have been struggling creatively. This is because of at least two major factors: * I started using AI to help me edit my work. I started paying for Claude and ChatGPT, and while it’s been helpful to tighten my paragraphs for clarity and make it easier to find research articles for The Sex Report, for example, I feel like I’ve lost the way. I’m obviously a bit of a writing purist, so I only use AI to help me edit my work, but still. I don’t like the quality of the things I’ve been producing with its help. Looking back, I don’t like it’s ideas of what’s optimal. I need to take time away from the internet. Luckily, I’m going to the mountains of California with literally nothing but my own thoughts to nag me for almost two weeks. It’s the reset I need. Wish me luck. * I’ve started stressing about growth metrics too much. Just like the type-A Wharton graduate I am, or like anyone who’s hooked on social media, I’ve been checking engagement, clicks, views, subscriptions, and all that crap of this newsletter for a few months now. I’ve noticed some trends as to what people like, but it’s started to consume me. I’ve literally forgotten about the fun things that I want to write about. I’ve become too focused on the outcomes, as opposed to just enjoying the creative process. According to Rick Rubin, James Clear, and a variety of modern-day gurus, obsessing about the outcomes and the performance of your work is literally the worst thing you can do, for your work itself and your creativity. And I’ve got a pretty heavy case of the outcomes obsessions. Here are some relevant Rick Rubin quotes: “The best work is the work you are excited about.” “Your trust in your instincts and excitement are what resonate with others.” “If we second-guess our inner knowing to attempt to predict what others may like, our best work will never appear.” And of course, it’s all exacerbated by comparing myself to other Substackers! Social comparison is the worst. I still haven’t learned my lesson. So a break from social media will also hopefully help me with that. The point is, I’m hoping a couple of weeks driving around in the Western United States, and retreating to the mountainous forests of Northern California, will help me remember why the hell I am doing this and what kind of writing excites me the most. I am not giving up. Anyway, I want to say a big thank you for reading and being here with me for this ride! Your support helps to keep me going, reminds me to keep learning, and keeps me honest in the process. I hope you all have a relaxing, creative couple of weeks, and I can’t wait to connect with you again soon once I’m back! Lots of love, Tash 💌 ✍️ Come back for more! p.s. Here’s a smattering of things to keep you entertained in my absence. My Road Trip Playlist 🛣️ 🌲 🏞️ Listen to the Misseducated Podcast 💌 ✍️ More From Misseducated 💌 ✍️ Get full access to Misseducated by Tash Doherty at misseducated.substack.com/subscribe

José I am sitting on the cracked, faux black leather couch in a white beam of LED light. Underneath the sparkling sheath of my green-blue dress is my matching tangerine orange underwear set. José is crouched on his knees on the floor in front of me. I notice the way he sees me. His drunken eyes double-take as I open my legs. I look down over the lip of my dress and back up into his brown eyes, teasing. I want to control him. It’s like I’ve made up a game with my own body. I will spruce up these used goods. Put the fruit back on the shelf at the supermarket, nice and ripe again. I touch myself over my underwear as I look up at him. I am putting on a show for him. I quite like it. I feel powerful, in control. I notice the grey hairs in the scruff of his beard as he sips his beer. He leans in closer, tasting me with his nose. When we are f*****g in his room, the breath is forced out of my lungs by the weight of his body and his protruding belly. He has cute brown moles on his face, deep brown eyes, and a wicked smile. Eight years older than me. He comes quickly. I feel dainty, young, fresh. José drives me home at 3 in the morning. In his car, I hug my knees, my orange underwear back on but readjusted and slightly twisted. He winks at me, and I pause for a moment. I wonder. We can both look at my body, but perhaps we see very different things. How does he see me? As some kind of walking beauty? Humanly imperfect yet highly f******e? Come back for more 🫦… Todor Todor starts to kiss my neck, and I am not a fool. I know that means he wants to f**k me. Three years younger than me, with plenty of muscle, I don’t want it to end. I love the feeling of his focus and attention, the feeling of his desire quietly unleashing itself, as he grabs my wrists and leans his whole body over on top of me. After we have sex, I get up. I want to shower. I ask him if he wants to join. He is already inching across the shower’s step, the deep, muscular curve of his back temporarily hidden from my view as I let the warm water rush down my face, through my hair, over my shoulders. Todor is quite a bit taller than me, but I feel him close, and I lift myself up onto my tippy toes to kiss him. Our lungs pant with the heat of the water vapor, hardly catching our breath. I feel weightless. Read more about Todor here and here. Ariel In Valle de Bravo, I am walking up the stairs at the spa. I am wearing these white and dark blue floral leggings that my dad got me. They are comfortable, but I think they are ugly. My English friend, Ariel, trails up the stairs behind me. “Your butt looks great in those leggings,” she says, “I didn’t know you had junk back there.” My eyes open wide as I round the top of the staircase. “Really?” I say to her, glancing back at my ass to see how I look, “Thank you.” I read things into her comment that I know I shouldn’t. I teeter between friendship and attraction. I can’t help it. She’s bisexual too. Yet, instead of guilt, I feel a sense of pulsing, silent pride. I keep secrets. I don’t like to, but sometimes I have no choice. I flick a smile towards her. I wonder where her boyfriend is. Read more about bisexuality here and here. Gym Girls I am sitting at an outdoor cafe. I look over the rim of my computer screen to see girls with perfect butts, boobs, and bodies glide out of the gym. Some adorned with a small fluffy pooch. Some wearing sunglasses under the gray sky. The tech bro in a t-shirt next to me stares at them for longer than I do. A wave of wanting washes over me, yearning almost, hitting me across my face and shoulders like a hot spray. I, too, must do 1,000 planks and pushups and sculpt my butt to gain the tech bro’s attention. Stop eating fried chicken. You’ll never get abs like that. Having a brain or a personality in this world doesn’t matter. Art My nude body is in the New York Times. My first anonymous feature in a dream publication, and it happens to be that I’m lying upside down on a frozen, rotten staircase in a haunted, crumbling house in Mexico City. My body is art. I lounge around with the other nude models, helping the photographer craft the perfect picture. Compare, compare, compare. I cannot help but notice the curves of the other girls’ thighs or their slightly saggy boobs. I see I am one of the only ones fully unshaven. I wonder if their men prefer them that way, or they prefer themselves that way, or who gets to decide these things. Probably, it’s the razor companies. Some exec who wants to buy a bigger house in the suburbs. The Sauna Later, I go to the sauna in Mexico City. I think of José in his drunken stupor. Tasting me with his nose. I sit in the baking heat in my thin, light-blue bikini. I feel like I could go out and get any guy I ever wanted. Sure, José is a man, and yet his eyes are far less judgmental than my own. Can men even tell the difference if I weigh 5 pounds heavier? Do they like my butt cheeks just the same if they sit like a shelf or sag slightly in the middle, like an ever-older piece of cheap plywood from Ikea, drooping from the weight like it’s filled with books? I consider that the female gaze, the gazes we give each other, and the visions of edited people on Instagram are harsher than any way a man could see us. Much less a human man with a cute smile, lovable tummy, and receding hairline. Baking, I leave the sauna. I still suck in my stomach a bit when I bend over to get in and out of the cold plunge tub. But I let the thong of my bikini bottom line my lower back. I leave the full, swelling cellulite of my butt cheeks out on display. The slight muffin top of my tummy, even, is there within the reach of people’s eyes. I let my square bikini top hang there also. Enough boob for there to be something to see. I shiver in the cold plunge water, hugging my knees for warmth. Here I am, body imperfect, trying this new gaze on for size. Actually, I kind of prefer the loose-fitting worship of the male gaze to whatever goggles I was wearing before. When I catch a glimpse of myself in my reflection in the sauna’s glass wall, I see the elegance of my waist and a well-proportioned lower middle. José, continued. José drives up to my front door. He stops the car. He kisses me on the cheek. I choose to ignore the judgments of my mother and the women of her generation. Their standards sharper. Their attention to detail. Their whispers crueler than catcalls, even. I see myself through José’s gaze. I am a queen. If this piece made you feel something, I’d love to hear it. Reply, comment, or share with a friend who’s learning to see herself differently 💌 ✍️ Share this post with another queen 👑 More From Misseducated 💌 ✍️ Get full access to Misseducated by Tash Doherty at misseducated.substack.com/subscribe

TL;DR Better out than in. Be bold. Tell people you love them while you still can. No regrets. 💌 ✍️ Dear Wonderful Readers, My grandmother is not getting out of bed. I can't help but think of what she's leaving behind: the things, the people, and the world outside her room. She spent all of COVID alone in her apartment on the second floor of a crumbling stucco building in Koreatown, Los Angeles. She was happy living there until she had to be taken to hospital when she fell over and broke her pelvis two years ago. She hasn't stood up unassisted since. When she moved, my aunt came and packed up everything that she owned and put it in a storage unit. When I tell people my grandmother lives in Los Angeles, it sounds incredibly glamorous. Their eyes open wide. But they don’t know that she misplaced her divorce settlement money in the 80s on a hotel in Palm Springs. Then she didn’t want to look after Aunt Mildred, which at least would have left her with the three-story house in the Castro, San Francisco—a house that her granddaughter, paying astronomical rent in the same city some fifteen years later, would quite like to have had. Share this with a fellow millennial who pays astronomical rent: Still, I love my grandmother. She balks at the MAGA, conspiracy-theory-inclined, insecure man in my family and our circles. She pesters them, expecting better. She calls me up to remind me that I should subscribe to Heather Cox Richardson, the esteemed historian from Harvard. She listens to my podcast. She says I have a talent for interviewing people. She tells me of the love she feels towards one of the carers at her nursing home, blurring tender affection with attraction. I read between the lines. My grandmother tells me getting old sucks. Half the time she calls me, it’s because she can't figure out how to do something on her iPad. The other half of the times she calls me, it’s to remind me of the things she has selected for me to have after she dies, the few treasures amongst the multiple boxes of rotten, rat, pee-and-poop-infested books that I’ve already hauled out of her storage unit on Pico. That freaking storage unit. It's like a hospital for people’s dying memories of their old selves. Yet, unlike bodies, which you can put in the ground, you can’t get rid of the things in there. There’s too much “value”. Nostalgiafied, imagined value. These embodied artifacts of your soul make it impossible for any future person to get rid of them. I've already siphoned off the treasures I wanted as payment for my time cleaning out the crap. The two ceramic Mexican masks and the two pieces of Huichol (Wixárika) felt art that I found in a trunk. A trunk that was buried deep in the bowels of my grandmother’s storage unit and which, I kid you not, also contained her mother’s, my great grandmother's, ashes. Thankfully, the soul of my great-grandmother has since been laid to rest. Her ashes scattered by my sister, my great-aunt, and my cousin at Stinson Beach. My grandmother tells me she wants to walk, but she always said that exercising hurt her. One time, I dragged her, rushing, from Southwark tube station in London to the Tate Modern to see a Lichtenstein exhibition, which I didn’t even like. That was the closest I ever saw her to running; for a timed entry to a museum, which we simply could not miss. My grandmother might never run again, or maybe even stand up unassisted again, but her saving grace is that she can still make art. My grandmother has painted all her life and recently started doing art again in her nursing home, even though she struggles to see and move her hands. I am glad for her, finally having fun and challenging her inner perfectionist. But she told me most of what she creates is a charcoaled blob. It’s to represent the darkness of the now-charred neighborhood, Pacific Palisades, which she used to call home, where she raised her children. My grandmother's memories live in a version of Pacific Palisades that no longer exists. One of my grandmother's proudest, most cherished memories was starting Art Alley at Marquez, the elementary school in the Palisades, where she painted a series of murals with the kids. I don't know what the murals looked like, people in the "Pacific Palisades - Remember When" Facebook group definitely do. I once asked some famous YouTubers who grew up in the Palisades. They remember it also. My grandmother was very pleased when I told her that. For better or worse, of course, she had sold the two houses she once owned in the Palisades and the condo on the beach in Malibu long ago. No surprises there. In the wake of the fires, it’s hard to know whether this was a blessing or a curse. We joke that my grandmother is a witch. Once, when my mother was a teenager and her boyfriend broke up with her, my grandmother made her a voodoo "Aidan doll" and pins to go with it. Aidan died a few years later. Smoking weed and a brain hemorrhage, they said. I warn my grandmother to be careful. She tells me she's working on our current president, but he's a tough one. I take screenshots when I talk with my grandmother on FaceTime. It’s strange to have a relationship with someone where there’s always that thought in the front of your mind that this could be the last time you talk to them. I learned years ago now to always say, “I love you,” just before we hang up. The Englishness in me resents this and feels embarrassed. But, perhaps shaped by the beauty of Mexico, I'm learning to express that. Perhaps not all feelings are meant to be swept under the rug. Maybe it's like the characters in the staple movie from my childhood, Shrek, belching as he says, “Better out than in, I always say.” The thought of expressing these feelings is bringing up a lot of emotion for me. Maybe that’s what I wanted to say here, and part of what this newsletter is about. While I was basically told to keep sweet my entire childhood, as an adult, I prefer to use my words. Say what I really feel. Leave no stone unturned. What’s the point of being alive if the closest people to us are left guessing whether or not we ever truly cared for them? If we ever truly loved them? If they ever meant anything to us? Maybe it wasn't a mistake to tell two grown men last summer that I loved them. One of them was my old boss, another was an old friend. Both of them had been huge supporters of my work, which I later discovered is my Achilles heel when it comes to men. There’s nothing that turns me on quite like a man calling me a prolific artist. Unfortunately, neither of them has talked to me since. It seems neither of them could handle it. I have been feeling some shame about that. Still, it's not up to me to make them believe they're lovable. That is why we must say what we feel. Be bold. Express what we feel we must say. No regrets. It’s mostly just to sense check with ourselves. To reconfirm with ourselves that we are truly alive. Is there someone you say “I love you” to every time you hang up the phone? Is there someone you wish you could say it to? Or something you've been meaning to say but haven't? I dare you to say it while you still can. If you feel like sharing, I’d love to hear it. Lots of love, and have a great rest of your week, Tash 💌 ✍️ Read me again sometime… More From Misseducated 💌 ✍️ Get full access to Misseducated by Tash Doherty at misseducated.substack.com/subscribe

Dear Wonderful Readers, This morning, I woke up grumpy and exhausted, scrolling depressively for thirty minutes, debating whether to even get up. My self-criticism has been flaring up again, making life almost unlivable. “Come to this self-portrait event at Soho House!” my friend coaxed me via WhatsApp. I frowned. Most of me wanted to stay at home, hiding. But after a short self-compassion practice to stop me destroying myself from self-hatred, I got up. I got a latte. I went for a walk. I decided to go to the self-portrait event. Because why the hell not? Get a weekly, shamelessly sexy musing 💌 ✍️ There, in the light-green glasshouse of the covered restaurant, sat Mina Serrano. I was confused at first because there were no mirrors for us to draw from. But then she said (in Spanish), “Now, we’re going to do something a little different. You’re going to draw me. And as you do, I want you to think about identity, beauty, and bravery.” She proceeded to take off the thin, beige mesh top she was wearing as she told us her life story. How, in Andalucia, Spain, she grew up knowing she had to leave. How drawing was her first love, but she soon found herself creating sculptures. She described the conundrum of sexuality and solitude. How trans women are trivialized and fetishized and stereotyped into sex work. How she would make beautiful poses on her own at home, only to wonder to herself: why is no one here to witness this beauty? “Crecí sabiendo que tenía que irme.” “I grew up knowing that I would have to leave.” Her story fascinated me, not just because of her authenticity but also because of the risks that she had taken to be who she was. At some point during her story, the circle of people around her started drawing, as did I. “Which part of yourself do you see in me?” she asked us. “What does that tell you about who you are?” I drew her sitting on the stool, topless, holding the microphone. The microphone was symbolic to me. Her, taking up space. Her, using her voice. Her, vulnerably being. It stirred something in me. When we had the Q&A session afterward, I shared, “I write a blog about my sex life. I love my work, but sometimes, I feel guilty because my siblings have their own companies. I don’t mind expressing myself and being my own person. But what if I’m negatively impacting their careers? With your authenticity, your identity, your beauty, and your bravery, how do you think about your family?” She raised the microphone to her light-red tinted lips. She paused for a good, long moment. Then she said, “I don’t have the perfect answer for you. Family is not easy." She shifted on her stool. “There is at least half of my family who rejected me. When you know that your family is gathering together, and you’re not invited, that hurts a lot. But I promised myself that I would accept myself. And not subject myself to the guilt. Ultimately, it’s not about them accepting me or not. I do not depend on them. I accept myself, and I choose to live as I am. And that is what matters.” Her honesty struck me, the vulnerability in her words. She was saying that, at some level, our identities should not depend on other people who we cannot control. My family hasn’t rejected me yet for the explicit things I have published on this blog. In fact, some of them even read it (Hello there! Love you!) Still, my inner critic says, “Who wants a sex writer for a sister?” As I added the mono-chromatic touches to my drawing, I felt the pain of my own wounds swelling inside of me. For some reason, I was hit hard this week by the weight of my family’s unspoken values and my parents’ invisible expectations. Perhaps it’s because the summer family gatherings are coming, and I remember them looking down on me last year compared to other people. My fear bubbled up like thick goo. A message that’s been drilled into me, silently through sonar, since my childhood: Making money is the most important thing. Being financially successful in this world is the greatest and only source of validation from others that matters. It’s funny sometimes how the things that are never spoken are what we know to be most true. Still, that’s not who I am. And I am not going to sacrifice this only life; I have to make money in ways that make me happy. But unless I do the work to heal myself, I am left feeling worthless. I took a deep breath as I sat there in the calm, glinting green midday light that streamed through the glass roof above me. I thought about you, my wonderful readers. I thought about this blog. I looked at my drawing as the shame in me subsided. In the undertones of my words to Mina, I had essentially asked her: Is it okay to not make a lot of money as a writer? Is it okay to be happy and pursue a career for pure joy? Is it okay to be different? “I think so,” Mina’s elegant position, topless upon the stool, seemed to say. I looked back at my drawing. I liked the colors and the slight messiness of it. This Tuesday morning, I was not bored to death at a day job that was lining my bank account but draining my soul. Here I was, simply enjoying myself, drawing and creating something beautiful. Something that was by no means perfect but something that I could be proud of. I smiled to myself. How are you living differently from your family or your community? How have you handled this? What shame have you overcome? I’d love to know. Please share in the comments. Shamelessly yours, Tash 💌 ✍️ Send this to a shameless friend! 💌 ✍️ More from Misseducated 💌 ✍️ Get full access to Misseducated by Tash Doherty at misseducated.substack.com/subscribe