Kim Windyka

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I mean, I’d just changed out the elastics on my braces to an older, more mature shade of teal. My orthodontia brought all the boys to the yard.

I began talking to the pirate approximately a week prior, and despite being overly enthusiastic in his e-mails–not to mention, responding to all of mine merely minutes after I had pressed “reply”–he gave me no cause for concern. Well, other than the fact that his profile stated his height at 5’6” (I feared even shorter) and that he had possibly dangerous sideburns. Also, that he used pirate-speak to say hello.

While I do a damn convincing wine-sipping, side-banged yuppie impression, the 16 year-old teenybopper inside is constantly trying to make an appearance. At 24, it was still sort of acceptable and kind of cute and endearing. But now? Tragic failure. Thus, I hereby vow to cease the following activities, effective the eve of my 25th birthday (maybe).