2012

Shakespeare got something about lust that Steve McQueen didn’t.

Newt Gingrich, open marriage, and some things you and I both know but rarely say out loud.

A loss neither of us wanted, imposed from without.

I direct her from across a crowded hotel lobby, texting instructions while businessmen in khakis steal glances at what they can’t have.

You like me! You really like me!

A budget midtown hotel where you can rent a room by the hour — and where every detail reminds you that’s exactly what you’re doing.

The Historian sent me her journal entries from our weekend in Miami. The fucking was hot, but the feelings were hotter.

On the evolution of my fucking technique, from passive to aggressive — and the semicolons along the way.

She got a free vacation; I got her at a moment’s notice. It was a good deal for both of us.

A seedy, psychedelic hotel in Manhattan, perfect for a couple of hours.