I experience connections as deep and real, but they end not in intentional closure but in disappearance. This is my compulsive repetition of courting and failing to avoid abandonment.

Meeting women has changed dramatically over the last 15 years — from mass-swiping Tinder to the blog attracting partners organically — and now all avenues have dried up.

I’ve known V since 2011. We aren’t in touch, and I haz a sad.

I struggle to accept the loss of women in my life, a pattern rooted in losing my mother repeatedly.

Thinking about fucking. And anger. Mostly, anger.

A post from nearly nine years ago, languishing in my drafts.

Relationships lead to loss. Jealousy is how I remind myself of that certainty.

I’m planning an office visit for you.

V cooks me dinner. I tie her up, and wand her, and fuck her face. And then, I make myself come remembering the evening.

V – remember V – is back in my life. And boy, am I glad.