Feb 112015
 
Fantasies about my fantasy

I’m imagining my core fantasy. First, what will you all wear? A sea of women…. Allie? Eva? The Historian? Isabel? L? Luna? Maxie? P? Penelope? The Rockette? Rose? Sadie? Sofia?!? Tamora? Veronique? You? (Those names – including yours – are in alphabetical order, lest you imagine you discern some other rationale….) In my fantasy, it’s […]

Jun 192013
 
Elegy for P (first in a series)

I’ve never “broken up with” a distant buddy. The nature of these relationships is almost structurally overdetermined not to get old for me. But several of them have ended. This was in some ways the most painful/interesting: There was a moment when the idea that we wouldn’t fuck seemed laughable. We were emailing constantly. She […]

Jun 282012
 

Lately, the business of being N, and of managing relationships with “Distant Buddies,” has been interesting.  P, about whom I’ve written a fair amount (Folly), has been having a lot go on in her life, and while I think things are substantively unchanged between us (we still plan to meet, and soon-ish), the earlier frenzy […]

Jun 042012
 

If you’ve been keeping score at home, wisdom, thus far, has prevailed.  But folly is mounting a tremendous rally. Do you have thoughts on the matter?

May 242012
 
Spreadsheeting orgasms

If you’re a geek like me, those two words, together, are pretty much the cat’s fucking meow.  (Speaking of which, if you haven’t seen this hysterical new blog – “Indifferent Cats in Amateur Porn” – you must go.  Hat tip to Violet Blue for calling my attention to this vital new contribution to the blogiverse.) […]

May 152012
 
Folly, part 3

You feel the bed sag as my weight falls onto it.  You feel my fingers, gently, opening your thighs.  You feel my breath, warm, moist, on the inside of your thighs.  My lips brush your flesh, my tongue flicks at you.  You flinch, wince, slightly ticklish, infinitely tender. I lick, slowly, slowly, up your thigh, […]

May 082012
 
Folly

This piece is a counterpoint to the other day’s post, “Wisdom.” As the plane descends into O’Hare, you smooth your sundress.  You look at the list I had sent you:  light, cotton sundress?  Check.  Cork-heeled shoes?  Check.  White cotton boyshorts (in spite of your insistence that your ass isn’t big enough for them)?  Check.  Lip […]