I recently had coffee with someone special to me, and it was during this visit that he kindly alluded to the idea that my recent writings, while good and accurate (thank you very much), could be a little off-putting to other readers. My mother wasn’t so kind or subtle when she texted me, stating I’d become bitter and wanted to know what was going on with me. Life, Mom. That’s what’s going on with me. Life, and it can be really fucking hard to navigate at times. I immediately reached out to my best friend, asking if she, too, thought I was bitter. I knew she wouldn't lie to me. Further, she'd . . .
Sorry to disappoint, kids, but this blog article, the very first of 2021, has nothing to do with hooking up with some rando (i.e. “strange”) from a local bar, bathhouse, or Craigslist. You know, COVID and all. But, also, I’m happily off the market. Besides, I was never really into that type of scene, anyway—regardless of who you may talk to later. I always preferred to get to know a guy before allowing things to turn intimate. Well, I’d at least learn his first name (in almost all cases) and tax bracket before taking that next step. What can I say? With me, there is usually slash rarely a . . .