when you are eye to eye with the receiver, who wants the promise as much as you want to give it, you are at a certain level of bias. promises are only wishes for a certainty you cannot control or manipulate or modify: declared hopes, strong emotions, spoken felt words. what thing is there to adhere to, in a promise, except that slippery fount of hope itself that’s like a water serpent in our double grip, twisting its anguished demons into our hearts and orgasms into our loins? i believe in getting clean, in surrendering to the urge on a summer’s night to play and splash, even, especially, when you are over 35 – but under the lights, in the glow of eyes, do not make promises. instead, give a declaration of how it is right now and how you hope to feel this way forever. at least then, you’re recognizing that chances are, you will not. and it doesn’t matter. not at all.