Flirting

Maxie and I had an arrangement that was to end in a blowjob. Then she ghosted – and I’m less hurt than baffled.

I went out with my old friend Judd — both of us in open marriages — to a lively cocktail bar with the half-joking aim of flirting. We met a group of women at the bar, including one particularly fun blonde, and I reflected on the rarity of having a true wingman and the ongoing question of whether Sydney will call.

My strong texting game.

A sexy waitress compliments me, and I find myself utterly tongue-tied.

Craig Ferguson is my new hero.

In which I am schooled by two very sexy baristas.

A conversation that starts with a creep on a train and ends somewhere much more interesting.

Two women I see weekly, both gorgeous, both objects of my idle fantasies — and then one of them flirts with another guy, and I’m gutted, not because I want her, but because she didn’t want me.