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” You stay up in a fancy hotel drinking room service champagne, shopping for apartments, and swiping around on Tinder.

Once your Fuck Off Fund is built back up, with your new, better job, you pay cash for the most bad ass black leather skirt you can find, upgrade to the used but nicer convertible you’ve always wanted, and start saving to go to Thailand with your best friend the next summer.

Angered and horny, he gagged her with her apron, pressed her hands to the wall and started tearing off her clothes biting her nipples and pulling up her panties that painfully cut between her pussy lips.

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Your new boss, who seems nice, calls you in his office, shows you a picture of his kids. Chang’s with your new co-workers, because you want to make friends, your turkey sandwich sounds boring, and what’s one more charge? The next time you go out as a couple, his arm around your shoulders, you look at all the other girlfriends and imagine finger-sized bruises under their long sleeves. You graduated college and you’re a grown-ass woman now. You want to be, no, you be the kind of woman who can tell anyone to fuck off if a fuck off is deserved, so naturally you start a Fuck Off Fund.

He jokes about his son, then as you’re laughing, he puts his hand on your arm, gives you a little squeeze. You wait to pay the electric bill while you’re gathering up the half you owe, and the lights go out. You would never be with someone who called you names, but you would never be able to make first, last, and deposit right now, either. You buy a halter dress you know you can’t afford, because it makes you look like the successful young woman you want everyone to think you are. To build this account, you keep living like you lived as a broke student.

On your phone you see the email about the $50 late fee. Your boss tells you that you look nice in that dress, asks you to do a spin. Your boyfriend asks you how much you paid for it, says it makes you look chubby. Drive the decade-old Civic even after the fender falls off. You waitress on Saturdays, even though you work Monday through Friday. It’s hard, your loan payments suck, but you make girl’s night an at-home thing and do tacos potluck.

You lock yourself in the bathroom until he bangs on the door so hard you think he must have hurt himself. You save up a Fuck Off Fund of $1,000, $2,000, $3,000, then enough to live half a year without anyone else’s help.

She haughtily took the glass, looked into it and then poured the beer over his face.

He pulled down the front of her top revealing swaying mounds of her tits and she tried to smash the glass on his head. You’ve seen , and if anyone ever sexually harassed you at work, you’d tell him to fuck right off, throw your coffee in his face, and wave two middle fingers as you marched out the door. Your life turns into a stock photo tagged “young professionals”: you and your new work friends, hanging out at the bar across the street from the office. You get to walk into Nordstrom, where your mom would never take you, and congratulate yourself with one fabulous black leather skirt, and the heels to match. You get your first student loan bill, and look at all those numbers.When your boss attempts to grope you, you say, “Fuck off, you creep!” You wave two middle fingers in the air, and march over to HR. You get a lease, graduate from the rusted Civic to last year’s Accord.

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