I’m unnervingly talented at engineering the rejection I claim to fear most.

I’m REALLY good at compartmentalizing.

I crave obsession the way others crave peace. Right now, I’m in one of those heightened periods, and the collateral damage is showing.

L gets the last word on safer sex. As she should.

Three questions, no simple answers, and the honest admission that hanging a flag doesn’t summon a gazillion great sex partners.

After a walk with L, I passed a tiny, curvy woman and was swamped with a very specific desire — not for her, exactly, but for the feeling of a small body yielding to my forcefulness.

Letting go of L, and envying her ability to let go of me.

A meditation on one of my favorite body parts.

L and I aren’t fucking, but we are scheming. Help us out?

A Ferris wheel has never been put to better use.