Musing

I want to learn your edges, your limits, your boundaries. And then dangle you over them.

Tinder is teaching me that not everyone treats interactions — virtual or otherwise — as real. I do, and it stings when that’s not reciprocated.

Too much eagerness to please me is, paradoxically, a turnoff. I have some theories about why.

A taxonomy of the women I don’t enjoy interacting with on Tinder, which is to say, nearly all of them.

A gorgeous woman from Tinder writes me for advice about her vanilla boyfriend. I do my best, conflicted as I am.

A gazillion women, nothing but oral, all night long. I’m pretty sure I want to make it happen. What are the chances?

How can you be confident about avoiding the possibility of avoiding revenge porn when sending me porn? I make some promises….

She showed me everything, promised me more, and then vanished — not even a goodbye, just the silent void of a disappeared Tinder thread.

A man at the bottom of a stairway, looking up. I saw myself in him.

An unfinished, scattered meditation on sex trafficking — what I know, what I don’t, and the joyless workplaces that aren’t limited to the sex industry.