On Molestation, or the Lack Thereof (In This Blog)

My friend N complained that there’s not enough “pining and molestation” going on in my posts, to which I was tempted to reply that perhaps he was not reading enough between the lines.

But I have to admit it’s true. The price for being in a stable long-term relationship is that there are not enough occasions for drama, misadventure, and suicidal nights where you listen to Norah Jones on a loop and write bad poetry. Alas, I remember periods in my life where I was, um, quite prolific in this regard. Now the high point of my day is when Frasier comes on at 12:00 on the WB channel, and the only rejection over which I drown my sorrows in sake is from The Law School That Must Not Be Named. I guess this is growing up.

So the closest I came to being molested today was the man who looked at me in the A&P when I went there to get some vegetables for dinner. He may have been looking at the tomatoes behind me though. If I were him, that’s what I would have done.