So, I’m on Hormone Therapy
It’s only been a little more than a week . . .
And it’s a revelation. This morning, as I was making coffee, having just returned from walking Daisy, I felt something I hadn’t for a long time… I felt… wet. You know. Juicy, moist, plumped up. I even checked to be sure. And I smelled good. And I felt good. If I’d known this was possible, I would have gotten on hormone therapy years ago.
Now what am I going to do? I still haven’t had a date in an eon. I’ve sworn off the apps. I hate them. They depress me no end. I typically, every time, get on the apps, make some connections online, meet one person, flee in horror, and cancel the subscription.
I know that’s no way to go about getting a date. If we were in the public square in 1503, and I agreed to a date with the first man I saw on the square, more likely than not, I would also run screaming, or slink away, trying not to hurt feelings.
Would I never enter the public square again?
Obviously not.
Is the internet, are these dating apps, our new public square?
What am I talking about? The U.S. has never had public squares, or precious few. There may be a few on the east coast; I’m not sure. I seem to remember one in Boston. But are they used as public squares? Are they the…
