You know, my friend Howie and I experimented with sex clubs for a while in New York City. He introduced me to the back room scene and to a couple after hours clubs.

I had fun for a while exploring that scene, but in the long run I found it boring and stopped going.

After reading your article, it occurred to me that I don’t remember a single vivid incident from those clubs, other than arriving and leaving with Howie and laughing about things. Oh, I don’t mean I’ve blacked it out. I have vague sensual memories and clearly recall enjoying myself.

I just don’t remember anybody’s faces or names or anything specific.

Some of my most pleasant memories of those nights out are actually of saying goodnight to Howie, buying a 40 oz Corona at a bodega and strolling home slowly, sipping, enjoying the night breeze coming in off the Hudson.

What I do remember vividly about sex from that part of my life is some of the casual sex I had with friends who were not lovers but with whom I nonetheless shared emotional intimacy.

Howie, coincidentally, was not one of those people. Although we had a lot of love for one another, we didn’t feel any sexual attraction, so go figure.

I still look back with great fondness and tenderness on friends from those years I was sexual with sometimes, despite being in a permanent loving relationship with Lenny that was equivalent to marriage.

I think sex was a beautiful element of those friendships, and of a network of loving caring that we were part of.