I remember a manhole was referring to my story as evidence for my virginity. I never knew what I put out on the internet could unsex me. I need to be more careful next time!
She thinks just because I put something up on the internet I consider it worth two buckets of hobo juice.
Ha ha. No.
The punchline? Here somewhere. Ah, yes. She thinks I am a man, and yet I am supposed to write vivid, descriptive passages about lesbian sex. That is an expectation akin to memorizing Genesis in one day; a task requiring a week of study, preparation, and commitment.
Worst yet, people would not see me better of it. In due time, the story will reach some level of quality, but immediately?
No. Calculated excisions and additions are the way in literature.