On the night of our date, I brought a bottle of wine and quickly surveyed the place for guns, knives, and S&M gear, but it was a normal 30-something guy apartment: bikes, antiques, speakers. He didn’t drink (migraines) but there was no way that I was not going to (normalcy).
The heart wants what the heart wants. In England, I was marooned in an indie-rock Disneyland and 90% of the inhabitants were pasty music bloggers (i.e., the worst kind of human). If I could have a 12-hour infatuation with my “soulmate,” I was entitled to it.