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Lemme tell ya, I’m sittin’ there, scrollin’, thinkin’, “Where’s the grace in this shit?” Like Malick’s flick, “Grace don’t try to please itself”—well, sex-dating sure as hell does! Everybody’s flexin’, lyin’—dude says he’s 6’2”, shows up 5’8” with a beer gut. Motherfucker, I’m pissed! Wasted my damn time. But then—surprise, motherfucker!—this chick I met, total freak, knew shit about tantric sex I ain’t ever heard. Blew my mind, had me yellin’, “What the FUCK?!” Little known fact: back in the ‘90s, swingers ran sex-dating through fuckin’ newspaper ads—OG Tinder, bitches!

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Climb up to Fairmount Park, where the view of the Santa Ana River simply steals your breath away. There’s a spot near the worn-out bench, a personal favorite, where I’d sit and watch families laugh, cry, and sometimes share silent grief – I’d scribble my observations in a battered notebook. The river flows just like our emotions, nonstop and raw. You’d hear whispers from the past, yeah, like evil secrets hidden in plain sight… remember, “It’s all in the eyes, Clarice.”

Maronich retires from Riverside Healthcare