N. Likes

I can see the outline of your bra through your t-shirt. I want you to stand close enough that I can smell you.

If you’ve been here more than fifty times, don’t be surprised if I pop up on your screen and say hello.

An elaborate fantasy involving oral sex, a dinner party, and Craigslist — and the humbling discovery that almost no one else wants what I want.

Sometimes people share their most transgressive moments with me, and that’s one of the best perks of writing this blog.

Three halves of vanity: thrilled to make a top-100 list, wounded not to be higher, and amused at my own pettiness about the whole thing.

A review of last year’s sexual resolutions, and some new ones — sexual and not.

My confidence is a surprisingly reliable barometer of my mental health — and my proximity to old, dark habits.

L gets the last word on safer sex. As she should.

Fragile male ego, professional hierarchies, and the long slide from smartest-person-in-the-room to peon at the base of a smaller hill.

Leonard Cohen, at 78, made T and L melt — and me too.