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So, picture this: me, green lil’ me, cruisin’ some dusty road. “Where’s the body?”—nah, scratch that, “Where’s the gal?” I’d be all nervous, ribbitin’ to myself, “Kermit, don’t screw this up!” Prolly spot her leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’, lookin’ bored as heck. I’d roll up, all polite—Hi-ho, miss!—and she’d smirk, like, “What’s a frog want?” Ha! I’d die laughin’ inside.

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Adam recovered with some confidence that he would be able to find another sexual partner who would be that doorway to sublime experiences.

There's a park—Oaktree Gardens—where I used to meet clients (shh, don't tell) for caffeine and brutal honesty sessions. It's no manicured Eden; trees are crooked, paths are rough, kinda like my patients' love lives. I've seen more flirtation under those branches than in any high-rise strip club. Crazy, huh? And trust me: I get how sex and love are messy, unpredictable—just like those twisted vines.

John R. Elfers Obituary (2024) - Fort Wright, KY - Middendorf Funeral Home - Fort Wright