It's a wonder that we even fuck with love, with all that we've known and all that we've felt. Then again, it always tends to trump or cloud our better instincts and every so often it really outdoes itself -- on the way to good or bad results. The longer you live, the greater the evidence becomes for you to just go for it. It might last for decades or it could flare up and fade in weeks or months, essentially dead on arrival.
The love stories that Matt Pryor chooses to write all come with their hitches. They come with their problems, many of which present themselves like icebergs, poking just above the surface of the water, but existing as the dreaded tips that will stop at nothing to be fully exposed eventually, to bust defiantly into hulls and guts. The ones that he writes that are something other than love stories feature people who behave as if love abandoned them long ago and now they're just trying to get even, in their own bizarre ways -- trying to take what they can get.