December 2017

A rare real-time post: spice reorganization, letters to long-lost friends, and mirth on New Year’s Eve.

I am, almost certainly, the single largest consumer of therapy you’ve ever encountered. That’s not the problem.

I’m a man of simple tastes.

The best news I’ve gotten in years, and I can barely hold myself together long enough to walk through a subway turnstile.

A model swiped me on Tinder, gave me everything I asked for from afar, and then, when we finally met, gave me almost nothing. I was surprised by how much the ghosting stung.

In which I continue to use my date with Svetlana to explore my likes and dislikes.

My first date with Svetlana, after which i parse the difference between wanting to please me and wanting me to get what I want.

Good riddance to a hateful fuck.

Two hours, imagining V’s mouth. Every detail of it.

To the person to my left, at least, “M.O.” stands for “main objective.”