You Make Me Wanna
The singer's highly-anticipated debut album features guest spots from artists like Usher and PARTYNEXTDOOR.
Usagi was a loud-mouth cry-baby with a voracious appetite—and Mamoru thought she was perfect. Growing up, Tuxedo Mask showed me that, one day, I'd meet someone who'd love me for who I was.
The faces of good and evil in "Super Mario Bros." provided potent fuel for my dueling desires for a reliable hero, and a freaky sleazeball with an appealing tongue.
As a child, I had a fantasy of the TMNT villain that involved being kidnapped by Shredder and tortured by his exquisite blades—sometimes, I even used my blanket to tie myself up.
"The L Word" defined a generation of queer women's sexual awakenings, including mine.
Watching Christian Bale and Winona Ryder's on-screen sparring in the 1994 adaptation of Louisa May Alcott's classic book, I learned that a true partner won't shame you for having a brain, but love you for it.
Ewan McGregor's portrayal of Mark Renton taught me to choose life—and midnight dialogues outside of clubs.
I longed for a hero in a Hawaiian shirt, cigarette-in-mouth, to risk life and limb to swear he'd love me. But in the end, I became my own romantic lead.
Despite being filmed in a parking lot and showcasing the worst possible early naughts fashion, the video for Timberlake's debut solo track still does it for me, all these years later.
Usher wasn’t out of anyone's league—he was out of this world.
Growing up, the mixed messaging I'd received about female desire caused me to fantasise about being ravaged by toga-wearing brutes with questionable sexual ethics.
The most intriguing part of Meg wasn’t her slender waistline or disproportionate breast size—it was her depth, her wit, her bullheaded resistance to being saved, and her willingness to rebuke masculinity.