I just realized that another anniversary went by, and I completely forgot about it. It’s been nearly two decades since that night back in grad school. I’d met a friend over in San Francisco and we’d seen a movie. I
I’m on an Amtrak train heading down to Washington DC to go to Mid Atlantic Leather weekend, otherwise known as “MAL.” I’m connecting to the train’s wi-fi and it shows the various active networks. In addition to the Amtrak network
I’m heading to Washington DC to visit my sister. I saw her about this time last year, and before that for the John Stewart rally in 2010. This has become a regular thing. I like visiting my sister and like
I’d flown into Seattle a number of times before, but the plane had never taken this approach. We were flying past downtown, seemingly dangerously close to the tall buildings. Was this right? Had we been hijacked, a sequel to 9/11
Last night I watched a couple of TV shows, one after the next, and by sheer coincidence both shows involved incidents of sex for favors under unusual circumstances. One involved a man offering the favors (to another man) and I
I remember the first time I saw an escort. It was about eight years ago. I’d fixated on an escort named Peter, who was a hunky Australian guy living in San Francisco with brooding dark features and a knock-out body.
Each day I commute from San Francisco to my job in Sunnyvale. I am one of an army of reverse-commuters, heading from our flats and rowhouses in the City southward to the leafy office parks of the Peninsula and South