Sex, On The Whole, Was

Writing Is More Than Anything A Compulsion, Like Some People Wash Their Hands Thirty Times A Day For Fear Of Awful Consequences If They Do Not. It Pays A Whole Lot Better Than This Type Of Compulsion, But It Is No More Heroic.

Lots Of Women Love To Accuse Men Of Being Immature When The Fellow In Question Displays A Reluctance To "commit"...

And Call Me A Pig, But Isn't It Brilliantly Refreshing How Early The Dutch Eat Dinner? When They're Still Laying Out The Cutlery In Achingly Hip Barcelona, They're Hanging The Closed Sign On The Restaurant Doors Of Old Amsterdam.

Sadly, A Lot Of What Passes For Feminism These Days Is Just Moaning About Men, Congratulating Ourselves On Nothing In Particular, And Mocking Them For Being Big Kids While Doing Everything We Can To Keep Them That Way.

As A Kid, I Grew To Define What I Didn't Want My Life To Be Like By Sitting Behind Moaning Women On The Bus, Hearing Them Bang On About Their Aches And Pains, Both Real And Imagined.