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I asked, you answered, and I didn’t love the answer. I’m a toddler: if you’re masturbating, I want you thinking about me.

A terabyte of porn on my disk, thousands of women, and I’d still rather be hunting than looking.

I want infinite porn, and I mean infinite – and I think the moving on is the whole point.

I’m getting two new knees in my 50s, and I’m terrified.

Three small scotches in, sad and tipsy at the bar, cataloguing the women on either side of me.

I can’t find a trace of sex in how she dresses – and that itself has my full attention.

P emailed again, and my heart leapt again – like it always does, like an idiot.

Kelly green bike shorts, a high braid, and suddenly I’m riding faster than I meant to.

I hate shopping – so I built myself a scotch price-checker and a lingerie aggregator instead.

I used to check my answering machine ten times a day. It was never about being important.