The Bride Files: Men Who Get Jealous of Your Vibrator
"The man who is jealous of your vibrator. I mean genuinely threatened by a seven-ish-inch silicone rechargeable device named something like 'Bob.”
"The man who is jealous of your vibrator. I mean genuinely threatened by a seven-ish-inch silicone rechargeable device named something like 'Bob.”
If you’ve been around since the last two issues of Engaged AF Magazine (engagedasfuck.com), then you already know — shit got real. What started as a magazine about weddings somehow turned into my own personal therapy journal written in real time.
Be part of the beginning. FYSFEE is coming — raw, real, and unfiltered. Join now as a Founding Member and get 50% off your first year before the chaos drops.
If your partner goes from cute-and-tipsy to full-blown Trashed Panda… knocking over chairs, speaking in raccoon tongues, and waking up like a wildlife rescue case… you’re not dating anymore. You’re doing emotional animal control.
“Well hey there, honey. I’m Kiki. I’m old, tired, sarcastic, and still married to this man because I lost the receipt. People keep asking what Ace and I do in this little Q&A of ours, so let me spell it out for you real plain."
FYSFEE has officially crash-landed into the dating world and set the fucking place on fire... and honestly, it needed the warmth. The heat from the steaming pile of shit it currently is, is just not working. Today we’re dropping the December 2025 Pilot Issue of FYSFEE Magazine, our first
"When we were choosing the cover for FYSFEE, it had to mean something. It had to speak for what the magazine is. Not cute. Not trendy. Not aesthetic for the sake of being pretty. It needed to tell the truth. And the truth is simple. Every person who finds FYSFEE is coming out of something..."
"The right person will make you feel calm, not crazy. They won’t make you question if you’re enough. They’ll remind you that you always were."
"The man who is jealous of your vibrator. I mean genuinely threatened by a seven-ish-inch silicone rechargeable device named something like 'Bob.”
Thanksgiving’s bullshit anyway—built on lies, guilt, and dry turkey. Skip Aunt Carol’s judgment and cook for your damn self. Whether it’s steak, vodka, or jelly beans, being single isn’t sad—it’s freedom with gravy.
"People like to joke about “red flags,” but when you’ve grown up surrounded by them, you start using them as home décor. My love life has been a mix of heartbreak, healing, and really bad self-awareness disguised as optimism."
"Let’s get something straight. If you have an Australian accent, you’re already halfway to the bedroom. You could walk into a bar, order a water, and someone’s underwear would fall off like it heard the mating call of God himself."
After a 16-year marriage went up in smoke, he realized dating one person at a time was emotional suicide. So, he started “stack dating”—building friendships, confidence, and options like a damn social fortress. It’s not about sleeping around; it’s about never begging for a text again.
"Pornography tells both sexes the same lie... to men, that they deserve endless desire; to women, that their worth is their body. It promises fulfillment while stealing the ability to feel- replacing intimacy with performance, and connection with consumption."
But here’s the cruel part — she was saying I love you while fucking her boss. For over three months. She said it in the mornings before driving to see him. She said it after trips that weren’t about work at all. She came home, kissed me goodnight, and said it again.