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Sometimes I can take pleasure in how I've matured. The other day a guy came to the shop and sold me a bunch of gay male fiction. I asked him if he thought any of it was funny. We talked a bit. Increasingly I found myself wishing that I were younger and could invite him out for coffee and see how our sympathies and empathies might mix. I found myself strongly attracted. Not that he was startlingly good-looking. Really I don't remember much about what he looked like. His sex appeal was in his gentleness. He wore glasses. Shamefully I've spent my life as giving the truth to the old Dorothy Parker quip. My sense of what is attractive in other people has sanely shifted.
Other times I can despise my immaturity. Ever vigilant with my site's referral log I discovered people were talking about me on a forum. Very - too - flatteringly. Ever since the days I spent on Yahoo I always look at someone's profile, bio, about section. One of the flattering people had several photos up. They were aesthetically, erotically devastating. So I left an overripe note expressing my admiration. I've never wanted to be an Internet flirt. And confessing your admiration of someone's online photographs isn't necessarily kind. They've probably heard it too often. And ignores their real needs if they are looking for friendship and kindness, not an 'admirer.' I felt ashamed the next morning.