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A candid message to Sydney, distinguishing between my general desire for cunnilingus and my specific desire for her, while framing it carefully to avoid unwelcome intrusion.

Is delightful. Delicious. And lovely.

When Margot bites her lip for me, I can’t tell what’s real – and I’ve been asking that question since I was a kid.

Nobody’s reading this anymore – or if they are, it’s through a chatbot. I miss the traffic spikes more than I want to admit.

Tina has a voice like catnip and everything else going for her – but I asked her to wear something green, and she said she was busy.

I have voted Democratic my whole life and given generously — and now I get fifteen begging texts a day. Stop it.

I used to put everything here, no flinching. Now there’s a list of things I won’t confess, and I can feel why.

Two years of biking to work instead of riding the subway, and this morning I finally saw an ass worth writing about.

I biked home from my 40th high school reunion feeling the same alienation I felt in high school — most of my actual friends weren’t there, and the crowd felt like a different world. I had a few genuinely connected conversations and skipped the after-party, choosing to bike in the night air, and my wife, and scotch, instead.

Yesenia has effortless elegance, always-impeccable style. I wonder what she wears beneath. Everyone should only wear things that make them [feel] hot.