Musing

Self-appointed moral vigilantes threaten to expose millions, as if adultery were simple and cheaters all deserved the same punishment. It’s a sad story driven by pain, and it’s only going to get worse.

Are there non-sexual parts of women’s bodies? I’m not aware of them.

A catalog of my features, physical and otherwise — offered with appropriate ambivalence.

Some people just ooze sex….

Most of my dates are sure things. This one won’t be, and that means something much scarier than not getting laid: the possibility of being rejected not for my looks, but for *me*.

The distance between who I am online and who I am in the world protects me from more than I like to admit.

Some days I can find beauty and desire in nearly everyone. Other days, the world looks like a drive through monotonous suburbs dotted with strip malls.

Sometimes all I want is to be hard — not to connect, not to come, but to counter a deadness deep within me with the undeniable sensation of being alive.

Strip clubs can be glorious, and they can be where you go to watch a little part of yourself die. I’ve done both.

There’s so much more sex I don’t have than sex I have. Sometimes I wonder if it’s not the rejections I crave even more.