Sadness

I reflect on my lack of passionate, spontaneous sex and the losses inherent in any particular sexual configuration.

I grapple with pervasive sadness about aging, beauty, and desire.

A rough morning.

Looking at porn to feel sad.

Bittersweet sadness

Serena is late, and disappoints me just a bit. Turns out, I manage it fine.

I’m scared!

Thinking about fucking. And anger. Mostly, anger.

I never used to cry, but now, I dry at the drop of the hat. Here’s what’s made me cry the last couple of days.

A reader recently suggested I consider therapy. This is a ridiculous suggestion. Not because I don’t “need therapy” – I do. But because I am, in fact, one of the world’s largest consumers of therapy. Here’s a graph, showing Americans’…