Catalog of disappointment

I’m a master at conjuring disappointment.

First, a memory. Really, a memory of a memory.

I use women, over and over, to revisit that original memory. The ur memory.

I do it constantly. Daily, even.

Just today, I revisited that memory with Cee, with Serena, with Charlotte. With Layla, with N., who I met last week and haven’t written about. Or her cousin, D. With Milica. And half a dozen others.

And that was, literally, just today! 

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