I thought of the words of the Renaissance philosopher Michel de Montaigne. "If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I.

He was probably selfish in the sack. Probably selfish and greedy and...unsophisticated. And hung like a horse.

Not as intolerable as being dead, in my opinion, but I'm very fond of me. I would miss me a lot.

A pause followed my greeting. Then “We’re watching you ” whispered the voice on the other end. “Yeah? Did you see what I did with my keys? ” Silence. Then dial tone. These younger demons. So easily discouraged.

And why is it the best looking ones are always straight?

I didn't approve of murder on general principles. Not even of people who seemed to go around begging for it.

How did people get over this? They obviously did. Every day someone fell in love with the wrong person and had to pack up all their fragile, misguided hopes and unwanted affection, and move on to the next picnic table.