Doing laundry, scrubbing the bathroom, and oh... rode my bike over to the West Village for quick sex. I was gonna write about that - maybe I still will. But it was over fast, and while in some ways unsatisfactory (do I need to spell that out?), as brief as it was, he had a handsome face, and we did get in some kissing. I would have liked more, but he was in a hurry - nice about it, but in a hurry.

So I peddle homeward, stop off at post office and there's a package. Hmmmm - how do I keep this vague, and still make it interesting. What can I say - the contents were a wonderful gift, and a nice note that just has me smiling. I've been struggling lately with my semi-annual "I have no friends" and a whole host of other self doubts, vague worries and all that depressing crap that just continues my inert life.

And then someone takes the effort, sometimes big, sometimes small, to just force that smile out of you, and you can try fighting it, but it won't work. You try to remind yourself of all your stinking problems, and how they are all self-imposed and blah blah blah, but you keep returning to "wow, what a nice guy!" and the smile returns. Even with the eyebrows furled, the physical act of the smile forces you to consider - I want to do the same thing, I want to make that effort to bring the same smile to other faces. Corny, I know; but I don't know how else to explain it.