I am sad that the first thing I notice when I discover an attractive writer hawking her book online is not that she is attractive and seems like a neat person I would like to meet for drinks, but rather it would be great to befriend her and align myself with her should her memoir ever reach Smashed, by Koren Zailckas levels of notoriety. And another part thinks either of my thoughts are not very nice.

A hippie, yuppie and womanizer battle fiercely inside me.