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In which I fingered a visiting dignitary in a bar.

The shortest post I’ve written, and maybe the most honest.

A thirteen-year-old boy, a Hungarian village girl, and everything I’ve ever failed to do with women, written in dust.

Beauty, as rendered by a pencil.

I want something. And something I don’t.

I want what I want, and I’m simply uninterested in not getting it.

I’m continuing to fantasize about my upcoming date. In this post, I mull a couple of ways we might combat some painful structural limitations we will face during our date.

Sometimes, someone just repels me.

A beautiful, shiny woman in a bar….

No amount of companionship touches it. It’s not a lack; it’s a disability.