If I could come from breast touch alone, maybe it was a form of cheating that felt "less bad." No penetration, no kissing; just the one act where I felt competent. A loophole my conscience could almost tolerate. My wife knows, sort of. She understands she can't give me what I want and doesn't want me to live a life of resentment. She grew up in a home where sex wasn't exploration but obligation, and infidelity was handled quietly. "There used to be an old-fashioned way to deal with these things," she told me once. "What I don't know can't hurt me." She doesn't ask questions, and I don't volunteer answers. We orbit the silence. It isn't an agreement, but it behaves like one. |
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Santa Claus was nursing a beer at an uptown dive bar. The neighborhood was gentrifying, and management seemed eager to accommodate—there was scented soap in the bathroom and twenty-two-dollar lobster rolls. But the place couldn't outrun the regulars. They drank tumblers of Irish whiskey filled to the brim, illicit pours they secured with ten-dollar tips to a curvy Dominican bartender. Santa was fiftyish, with a modest gut, gray hair, a lustrous beard, and a caddish gaze that followed the bartender up and down the rail. He was dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt. For the price of three beers, he told me his story. |
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Jake Lacy is no television critic, but there's one thing he's sick of hearing when you recommend a show to him: It really gets going by season 2. As a man with a busy acting career and two young children, Lacy can't fathom that type of commitment. "I gotta give you 12 hours of my life to get to act 1?" Lacy asks me, looking physically exhausted by the mere thought. We're sharing pastries in a boardroom buried within the Universal Studios lot in Los Angeles, and Lacy is explaining why he signed up for his latest project, the twisty Peacock thriller All Her Fault, after reading the very first page. Debuting in early November, the adaptation of Andrea Mara's 2021 best-selling novel—which was an instant smash hit for the streamer—follows commodities trader Peter Irvine (Lacy) and his wealth-manager wife, Marissa (Sarah Snook), as they discover that their son has been kidnapped by the nanny of another family. "The fact that the script opens with the boy gone? Now we're talking!" Lacy says. |
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Every year new gadgets, watches, and little luxuries flood stores and online retailers, and consumers are presented with more options than they know what to do with. Every brand, large and small, begs you to scroll its gift guide. How can you keep up? What should you buy for people you love this year? That's where we come in. Esquire's editors spent the entire year testing products, visiting showrooms, and cataloging the best releases of the year. It's all led to this: the best gifts on Earth. After all we've seen, it was no small feat to narrow it down to the 26 hottest products of the year. But we managed. We found the best LED light mask of the year, one you'll want gift to someone close to you just so you can be sure to use it on a regular basis. We also found an e-reader that's barely bigger than your smart phone, a projector small enough to fit in your briefcase, and so much more. |
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Eloy Detention Center lies nine miles east of Interstate 10 in Arizona, amid a patchwork of windswept mesquite scrub, solar farms, and alfalfa and cotton fields, with the jagged ridgeline of the Picacho Mountains visible to the southeast. Beyond the truckers chapel and the sign at the corner—"CoreCivic: We're Hiring"—acres of ruddy, bare dirt surround a cluster of austere buildings linked by concrete walkways. Pass the reserved parking spots for the Employee of the Month, Supervisor of the Quarter, Officer of the Month, and Employee of the Year. Pass the little signs that say "Keep Off the Landscaping" and stop at a reinforced steel door painted blue, with an intercom button on the right. Employees may already be waiting there, carrying McDonald's bags and energy drinks. A sticker inside someone's see-through backpack: "I Don't Know, I Just Work Here." They will be grousing about how long it takes to get in. "Any fucking day now, Central." Look at the camera, announce yourself. The door opens past a twelve-foot fence ringed with razor wire and into a vestibule where a second button awaits. Past the second fence, electrified, fifteen feet high, a chain-link tunnel leads to the main entrance. |
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There are a lot of songs that Sheryl Crow is happy to explain. She can tell you all about the upheaval in her life when she penned "Leaving Las Vegas," and about the election night that sparked "Run Baby Run." She can even detail the heartbreak of watching her mother fade away to Alzheimer's disease that led to her more recent song "Forever." But everyone wants to know one thing: Who is the famous rocker that she immortalized in the wry semi-love song "My Favorite Mistake"? Crow reveals a lot in her episode of the new MGM+ storytelling series Words + Music, which airs December 7, but she says that's one secret she's keeping forever. |
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