June 2014

I’ve never met Sofia, but I know her body — in fragments, in parts — better than I know most faces I see every day.

My three approaches to swiping on Tinder, from mindless to attentive — none of which, it turns out, makes much difference.

I meant what I said, but maybe not how you heard it.

For me, anger is never primary. It’s always protecting me from something else — usually fear.

Every woman comes differently, and it never feels the same way twice—but it always feels like the best thing in the world.

Your entire body will be still, like it or not. I need to go shopping.

A guy with a rule-violating Tinder profile offers unsolicited advice to women about theirs.

Two portraits of Luna — hers and mine — that overlap in all the most interesting places.

I’m now available on your iPhone. Sort of.

I didn’t give the Rockette what she expected — I smiled, I asked questions, I insisted on consent — and then I left her bruised, sore, and a little scared of me.