After a semester of teaching, I’d begun having drinks regularly with the chair of my department. One night, a new professor at the college joined us at Vol de Nuit in the Village. She sank into the couch luxuriantly, and I immediately wanted to sink into it with her. I asked her out later that week, and four dates later I was in her apartment in Astoria. She introduced me to her Chihuahua, and turned on her stereo to a Bill Callahan song. No matter how far wrong you’ve gone/You can always turn around. I slept that night in her bed. It was softer, kinder than any I’d ever slept on. Turn around, turn around, turn around/And you may come full circle/And be new here again.

AuthorJohn Proctor