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A plea for compassion from the man I am to the man I’ll become.

Every six months or so, I fall ill. I’m ill. Here’s some old stuff while I recover.

Before I tell you what makes me sexy, let me lead with my weakness — arrogance, selfishness, stubbornness, a smaller-than-average cock, and a monotonous sexual repertoire, for starters.

The addiction has shifted: where sex once consumed me, now it’s writing that I can’t stop doing.

A promising OKCupid exchange gets right to the point.

The flesh visible through her sweater captures my attention and won’t let go.

Soon. I’m working on it. But stay tuned.

A woman on the train, so pretty I become a 17-year-old boy.

What I need from you today.