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December 17, 2006
I hear from various sources that P, a "lover" from ten years ago, has gained 40 pounds. He's puffy, they say. Bloated. I imagine him as a combination Pillsbury Doughboy/Frosty the Snowman, with dots for eyes, pressed into a cushion of flesh.

I regret having told him that I'd see him when he visited New York. I thought the guy I'd flirted with was still in great shape. A distance runner. A guy who would never let himself go.

I hate knowing that some flubby guy was the beneficiary of flirting I'd reserved for the hot guy I once knew.