Electing strange perfections

In “Someone New“, my boy Andrew H. Byrne sings about what it’s like to be on the hunt. The world is a big, gorgeous, messy pile of horny humans, looking for each other—and if Tumblr and Craigslist are any indicator, most of them are failing miserably.

For whatever reason, I have been lucky to cross paths with piles of good candidates. (Now, obviously they do not become playmates; but as prospects go, I keep panning gold.)

Literally the morning after I released Jack, I connected with someone new.  For now he’ll be called Gerrard.

I do not believe it myself; it has been a whirlwind week and it feels like nothing is real.

But I have never been more certain in my life—of the notion that sometimes we must pass on something good in order to be available for something great.

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