2015

That’s what she said.

The fantasy was me and eight or ten women. The reality was two, in black dresses, at opposite ends of a bar. My fallback position was, it turned out, pretty fucking spectacular.

Tinder’s gotten me laid, but their new pricing model is almost as offensive as my swipe-to-match ratio.

Gay magazines in the barber shop, right next to the Playboy. We’ve come a long way from Johns’.

A reader writes something that stops me in my tracks.

PornHub wants to save the planet, and I’m happy to do my part.

A sexy reader asks me about desire and arousal, and I have some thoughts.

A satisfied customer speaks.

Approval is my drug, and I’ve found a way to deal it to myself in public.

I ended things with someone today, which shows how I don’t use women. Then I posted about it here, which shows how maybe I do.