you're in my class and I like what you talk about when you talk about love. your tenderness is refreshing, and your ability to be vulnerable is rare. I hope you find a love worth dying for.
—the poet

I’ve been feeling so much power recently. Knowing I’ll see you again soon makes everyday more exciting than the next. Your bright blonde-haired beauty is unique for a man, but you make it work and my heart is full and inquisitive and pure bliss.
—Yes or no

I urge you to love yourself more than that guy. He might seem complimentary to your culinary skills, but I can assure you he's not the right fit. I went back for seconds because he said he changed the whole menu; new, improved, full of heaping amounts of respect, apologies; by his accounts a changed man and most certainly a champion for women. I loved myself more when I listened to my inner voice. He did not tell the truth, was sleeping with someone else and showed no remorse for his actions. I loved myself more and left that smug liar. Love yourself more in all your glory, originality and struggle. You are worth it to dine alone until the proper and more fulfilling experience is served.
—Self love and care are at the top of the menu

  Thanks to the Memorial Cup, Bluenose Marathon Weekend was three weeks later than usual. I am not used to running in the heat so I adjusted my pace accordingly. I still wanted to finish strong. We held hands and crossed the Finish Line together, even though I was completing the 15K and not the Half! Slow race for me, awesomeness from you.
—Slow but grateful runner

Yes Raptors, goddam YES! Making history with the win, and sending the Warriors home in style. We the north!

To celebrate I want to get a tattoo of Kawhi holding his two trophies. It's a great idea now—but he might not even be in Toronto next year. Am I gonna end up with regrets like Steve Kerr?
—Board Man Gets Inked

I love the time we have together every Wednesday.
The break from the office, the drive to Citadel Hill to look out over the ocean and talk about cruise ships and the new construction in the city. Then off to the waterfront to walk along to Bishop's Cellar to pick up our Wine Wednesday deals. Then, reluctantly, I drive us back to the office and we awkwardly sit in the truck in the company parking lot, making small talk, or watching people come and go, when one of us finally says, "Well, we''d better get back in there."

I don't know if you know that I would love to get drunk with you, and laugh, and flirt, and kiss, and end up in bed together.

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Those moments have made me realize that I am really attracted to you. I want to put my hand on your leg while we are driving, just stare into your eyes while we are parked on The Hill, or hold your hand as we walk along the waterfront. I want to hold you and feel you against me. I would love to find out what kind of kisser you are.

But I don't know if you know this. I've dropped so many hints, and even suggestions that we skip work one day and get drunk together on our Wine Wednesday deals, which you said you thought was a great idea.

But I don't know if you know. I don't know if you know that I would love to get drunk with you, and laugh, and flirt, and kiss, and end up in bed together. Do you just see me as a work friend that sits across the hall from you? Or do you feel the same and we are both too shy to do anything about it?

I'm reluctant to make a move for fear of ruining everything and making our work situation uncomfortable for both of us.

I hope you see this post and let me know.
—Wining and waiting

It was nice sitting next to you on the bus to Halifax. You boarded in Amherst, I think: Blue and black and denim. You said you'd have to sit next to me as it was the only seat. How could I have minded?

I asked if it was still raining outside, although I had a window seat and could see for myself. We didn't say much on the drive, but I would have sat there happily all the way to Yarmouth, had we both been bound that way.

When we were leaving the bus at the terminal, you smiled and offered to let me go ahead. I grabbed my backpack from the overhead, sat down, and froze like a kid at his first middle school dance. By the time I left the bus, you were gone. I still have the weird note I scribbled as we were pulling in, but could not offer you when it counted.

Maybe we'll sit next to each other again sometime. A guy can hope!
— Never too old to act like a dork, apparently