Hey, Asshole!

I'm obsessed again. I'm searching Stuart on google. I'm trying to find information or a lead on who the new sucker -- I mean hooker -- I mean girlfriend -- is. It's pointless, and moot, I realize. It just makes me sad. A pic came up of him sitting at his Canzine table, and it just made me sad.

I make no claims to be over him. I'm not. What he did to me was devastating beyond belief. I still have trouble believing it -- and I go back and forth, days where it seems like just the memory of a bad dream. Other days when I would kick him in the balls if I saw him in person. Or at least call him an asshole to his face. "Hey, Asshole!"

It was really interesting -- I asked Mike why men go to hookers. Same generation as Stu. He put it really simply. It's like going to a Broadway show, and you're in it. That makes sense to me, actually, but that sounds like someone who has come to terms with their desire and their sexuality, and who understands the differences between these things. Mike doesn't seem like he has many hangups, though. Stuart, on the other hand, didn't want me to say the word "handjob." What else are you supposed to call it, asshole?