My story

I have known monsters. They’re good, decent, kind, loving people.

My relationship to money and desire, and the ingenious, self-defeating system I built to get the former without risking the latter.

Not all of what I write is true. But all of it is real.

A hiccough, a drink with her husband, and we’re back in business.

I have more in common with Jeffrey Dahmer than I’d like to admit.

Shakespeare got something about lust that Steve McQueen didn’t.

A loss neither of us wanted, imposed from without.

On the evolution of my fucking technique, from passive to aggressive — and the semicolons along the way.

Some things are best worked out in private, even by a guy with a sex blog.

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