I don't know where did I get that sort of bravery (or cowardice, it depends on how you see it but I'm choosing bravery) when I walked away from him, feeling like a warrior, like a modern Mulan, escaping him and his expensive car with the built in driver, because no means no.

But yes, I do want to be his breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. Or all of them. My battery operated boyfriends know how much I want to be his meal.

I chose no not because I'm challenging him so I'd get to be his meal. I'm saying no simply because I'm tired of being ignored, of being...