They don’t like it. We’re opening a Pandora’s box. God knows what’s in there. We could find Judge Crater in the back.
Sometimes. And invariably there are things in the back that even she hasn’t seen in 25 years, rolled up in balls.
I moved three months ago. I’m not in any condition to receive visitors. I need to do another cleansing. There are things that I do not wear and I should do something about.
I once went decorative-art shopping with a dear friend. On the way home, she said, “There’s a great new store I want you to see.” We met the designer, and she waxed rhapsodic about this coat on me. I thought, in my shopping delusion—and I was delusional— it was black, so it was safe. When I got it home, I tried it on. I thought, This looks ridiculous.
No no no no no. It’s some engineered textile. Nylon and God knows what.
This is going to sound terribly selfish. Relationships take time. In order to have one, I’d have to give something up. I don’t know what it would be. I’m having the best time in my life.
No. Never. Never. Honestly. People are surprised when I say that, but it doesn’t happen.
I’m clearly not sending a message that I’m looking. If we do a season two, we’ll certainly do men. I’ll be getting into their closets.
