Musing

Life isn’t fair, my grandmother reminded me. In this dissolute life, I’d rather it be interesting.

Not looking at beauty made me think about it far more than looking at it ever did.

Recovery got me sober, but sobriety wasn’t quite the point.

A testament to just how straight I am.

My problem was never sex. It was the elaborate edifice of deceit I constructed around it.

Two words that will pretty much guarantee I don’t want to fuck you.

I never thought of myself as an exhibitionist. Turns out, Google Analytics is my crack.

Jealousy, envy, and the fear of being superfluous.

An infinite line of women, infinite stamina, and not a single act of intercourse. It’s my fantasy — I’m allowed to be selfish.

Elven pajamas, boxer briefs, and the flu.