Musing

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.

There’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance, and I’m not always on the right side of it.

Winnicott nailed it, and so does every pseudonymous sex blogger who hits “publish.”

A proposal for a crowd-sourced database of rape accusations draws objections both legal and moral. I find the karmic objection compelling; the “false accusations” objection, less so.

A half-baked, possibly quarter-baked, idea about crowdsourcing accountability for rapists.

The ethics of fucking someone else’s partner aren’t mine to police. But the practical risks? Those I think about.

I keep promising Sofia something simple, and I keep failing to deliver. The why of it is more interesting than the failure itself.

It’s cowgirl, and I’ll tell you exactly why — but there are exceptions.

My official position on failure to launch, once and for all.