Let me refresh your memory, because I assume my headshot is nowhere to be found in the theater anymore: you decided you wanted to put on a production of Thoroughly Modern Millie and needed two Asian guys to play Chinese-speaking henchmen. I was performing a bit in college and was talked into auditioning by a friend of mine.
You wore basketball shorts and a white t-shirt and I remember being O-B-S-E-S-S-E-D with that look. Your vibe was so “I’m leaving the GF at home while I get my David Gest on!” and I was definitely picking up what you were putting down.
In New York, I often find myself playing Tag. By that, I mean I see something I like, peep the price tag, then run away. In Chicago, I looked at a tag and was like, “I’ll take two, please wrap them so that I can present myself with a gift-like reward for being awesome at shopping.”
Is there anything more torturous than the first “I love you” in the context of a relationship? I mean, I’ve never done anal, so I can’t be entirely sure. Nevertheless, when you realize you’re in love with the person you’ve been dating, not only do you have a Jekyll and Hyde style fight to not flip the crazy switch, your life also begins to resemble a violent and strategic war game (at this point COD aficionados may rejoice), usually against no one but yourself.