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Vaginal Intelligence and New England Summers

     This week I’m on a vacation in a remote part of New England with my girlfriend Grace. We’re staying in an Airbnb that is an apartment attached to the home of a kind, elderly white couple. In the mornings, we take walks around the lush, tree-lined neighborhood, trying to get as close as possible to the lake that is walled off to the public by people’s homes. In the afternoons, we make our best effort to visit the surrounding towns and trails. The air is much cooler up here, and the houses are built in the shape of sturdy wooden boxes painted clean white. The area feels ancient in a way that is unfamiliar to me. On our second day here, we visited the campus of a prestigious university. This was mostly Grace’s request, as I had already visited the campus as a high school student, and my decade of experience within academia has rubbed away much of the sparkling magic of university territory. But she wanted to go badly, if only to disabuse herself of the fantasy that we would have acco

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