Alright Douglas. You win. I love you. I’ve been riding the fence about you because you have got some serious flaws which, (un?)fortunately, haven’t kept you from being published, which means that all your fits and starts are out there in bookland for everyone to see instead of in a filing box marked ‘Drafts.’ But since you’re getting older and wiser and a touch less melodramatic, you can come live in my crawlspace and be my secret boyfriend.