You don’t eat a peach just because you’re hungry.

I mean, sure — the hungrier you are, the better that peach is going to taste. But that’s the wrong reason to do it. The right reason is that it’s time for the peach to be eaten.

You can’t just pick up a peach and stuff it in your mouth. There is a process — equal parts art and science. There are elements of seduction and of mutual consent. Many are the times I have let a promising-looking specimen go bad because I waited too long. (Story of my life.)(I like to think that when I die, all these lost peaches will be restored to me, sort of like the 72 virgins — which, I know, aren’t real either, don’t @ me.)

Do I regret this? Well, what do you mean by “regret”? Certainly I wish things would have worked out better. But in this as in so many areas of life, decisions must be made, and the results are not always the desired ones.

And when it does go right — ideally a peach should be eaten outside, in the blazing sun, with the juices trickling down one’s bare chest — few things in life are better. There’s one on the table in front of me right now. Later.