My first crush was Barry Manilow. He performed on TV and I taped it. When no one was around I’d kiss the screen.

No more, no less. I’m an idiot. I really need to let this crush go.

Sometimes the memories seemed too much and I couldn’t understand how I’d stayed so calm when these things actually happened, but lost my breath in the shadowy remembrances.

Strange that grief should now almost choke me, because another human being’s eye has failed to greet mine.

I want to touch with my mouth. His mouth, with my mouth. Maybe his neck, too. But first things first: Make him aware I exist.It’s possible that he is already aware, if only in a...

Oh, he did look like a deity – the perfect balance of danger and charm, he was at the same time fascinating and inaccessible, distant because of his demonstrated flawlessness, and possessing such strength of...