I dug out the powder blue cashmere cardigan my mother Lisa gave me the Christmas before last, pulled on my oldest, softest Levi’s. Comfort clothes; the next best thing to a hug from a warm, living body. Lately there had been a shortage of hugs in my life. Lately there had been a shortage of warm, living bodies.

Everything a gay man does makes a political statement. Everything matters: where you bank, where you shop, where you eat. When you hold your lover’s hand in public

He needed fresh air and sunshine. A walk in the woods and afterward a good book to read by the fire. Yeah, that was the life.

Vintage books, old china, antiques; maybe I love old things so much because I feel impermanent myself.

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

Then, like a born and bred asshole, he added to the sheriff, "He writes murder mysteries.

I'm a thirty-something gay man with a dodgy heart. I sell books for a living. Who wants to read about that?