August 2015

I loiter on her block, phone in hand, one eye on the screen and one on the passers-by, hoping for something I’ve agreed not to pursue.

I used to wear a suit every day, and I never once felt sexy in one — just a fraud in nice wool. Now I only wear them to weddings, funerals, and bar mitzvahs, and I’m happier for it.

’nuff said.

Elizabeth Gilbert’s seduction confession reads as triumph; mine reads as a road that never ends.

I need your mouth on my cock. Give me that, please.

I fear your desire, and I fear your desire for me, and my brand of dominance is a clever end-run around both.

Rejection stings worst when it echoes old wounds. My readers let me know I had my head up my ass, and they weren’t wrong.

I need you to suck my cock, extensively. Do you have what it takes?

She looked like a porcelain doll — red lips, red hair, pale skin. I thought we’d become friends. Turns out I’d only ever been a customer.

Bill Cosby was a childhood hero of mine. I’m trying to figure out what to do with that now.