I would like to get together in one room all the boys I had desperate crushes on as a teenager, to see what kind of adults they've become. Of course the odds aren't good that they've turned into anything other than thoroughly conventional grownups, because that's what most people turn into and it wasn't exactly the minds of these boys that attracted me, it isn't as if I lusted after their big sexy brains or artistic sensitivity. No, chances are such a reunion would be a grim assemblage indeed, awkward and pointless, even excruciating. But in the interest of a deluded idea of closure and a sort of emotionally masochistic delight in novel forms of humiliating adventure I'd like to have sex with them anyway, one after another, alphabetical by first name, while the others shift uncomfortably in their chairs and check their watches impatiently. Think of it as a kind of convention, we could do it at an airport Marriott somewhere in the midwest, an airline hub city convenient for all.