Last night got a little crazy. Balancing my desire for a new dating app woman to be real with the reality that another woman I knew years ago and who is certainly real has re-entered my orbit. I offended her a few years ago but she says, as I suspected, that she found my anger endearing. I never let on that I found where she lived. It was too easy to do. She had a beautiful old electrically-lit phone booth outside her building. That sucker’s gone now. But she might give me a long-awaited tour of Rego Park. Her Rego Park. The other woman I’ll toy with. I think she’s a dude, or a syndicate of hucksters. Her random references to crypto investing has every hallmark of a con. And her impossible photos. The real woman is none of this, none of that. She exuberates.