Every single painting had someone taking a picture of it. Sometimes it was just a quick iPhone click-and-go, other times it was a full-fledged staging that required a squint, squat, and snap.
Saying “I love you” during a hook up with your serious BF/GF is cute and sweet. Saying it to someone you don’t really love and/or know is just weird. But it happens! The premature “I love you” is a real issue.
You are no pretense and no prologue, you give me exactly what I expect, we’d both hoped for more but we’re okay like this for now, tongues together for a few hours that we’ll blush off the next day with a sore stomach and headache. Your charms wear off quickly but a few weeks later I’ll be there at your door again, doing things I regret, trying to grow accustomed, trying to accommodate my expectations to what you can give.
There are guides and handbooks on making it in NYC, the city that never sleeps – but what about DC, the city that always sleeps? There are documentaries chronicling the rise and fall of stars out in LA, the city of dreams, but not much has been said of those of us living in DC, the city of nightmares.
To this day, I can’t remember the name of the girl who drove us, which is unfortunate because after ten minutes of us driving, I began to vomit all over the interior of her car. Being a near stranger, she started to get really pissed and scream, “OMFG, MY CAR! MY CAR IS RUINED!”