Musing

My ethical compass spins differently depending on the woman, the situation, the lies being told and to whom — and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.

I’ve never thought of myself as arrogant. Turns out, not everyone agrees.

My evolving opinions on a diagnosis that doesn’t actually exist.

Rejection makes me want a blow job from a stranger and a cigarette, in that order. Instead, I’m just sitting here, feeling it.

Two women I see weekly, both gorgeous, both objects of my idle fantasies — and then one of them flirts with another guy, and I’m gutted, not because I want her, but because she didn’t want me.

Angela wasn’t satisfied with my first answer, so here’s my second attempt: sensation and power.

When I wrote this, the biggest sin we knew Deen to be guilty of was overabundance. It still reads well, as long as you know that times have changed my view.

What makes me look, and what makes me keep looking, aren’t the same thing.

The volatile narcissism of self-esteem: how quickly I can swing from buoyant to bereft, and back again, all on the evidence of women’s desire.

If you think me arrogant, there’s no meaningful objection I can offer. But I’m RIGHT, and they’re WRONG — which may well be true, but is rarely wise to say aloud.