“and then tomorrow i get to have sex with mike doughty,” i said.
“exactly,” wolfdogg said.
“i am so excited for that,” i said.
“you, of course, are speaking of the kind of sex that happens with two people on opposite sides of a crowded room, right?”
“of course, is there another kind?”

and also, i present you some of my favorite doughtyisms (the non-soul coughing category, though i think one of them might have slipped in anyway):
? relentless hours dreaming of her smell

? so sweet my mouth was seared but words you mouthed were sweeter

? this kiss is home before the next exhaulation leaves

? the happiness stinks up the room

? sunken eyed girl don’t let me go, you are the whole world and you barely know it

? my plans spun all around, five years in the wrong, i am assured my name to you is just another word

? it’s all inside the wrist, it’s all inside the way you turn it, i resent the way you make me like myself

? i can give you the constellations, lay down here and we’ll count them all

? in a shimmy that sent her hips in a liquid piston motion to the floor, like cream shifting in a glass