Musing

Illness, recovery, and the slow return of desire — for sex, for writing, for being myself.

Wet hair, rubber boots, and dishevelment, generally.

In which I decide that maybe, just maybe, taking non-consensual photos of people might be problematic. Thanks to the thoughtful comments of readers of this blog.

My first impulse, when I learn I’ve hurt someone, is narcissistic: I’m less upset about the pain I caused than about being perceived as wrong.

What I really missed wasn’t sex — it was seduction.

Acceptance has gotten me further than communication or compromise ever did.

Not the sex tips you’ll find everywhere else — these are for people trapped in shame, not people looking to spice things up in the bedroom.

Letting go of L, and envying her ability to let go of me.

The top ten search terms leading people here are not what you’d expect.

Love is hard when four people are involved and only three of them are fine with it.