Numbers I No Longer Need To Have In My Phone

Bobby

Bobby was a dude I met in San Francisco who I had a major boner for but of course, he turned out be straight. Since I couldn’t have him myself, I decided to pass him on to my girlfriend and she told me that he had the biggest dick she’s ever seen in her life. So that’s cool. Bobby and I were actually in a “band” together called “Streetcar Called Shut The Fuck Up” freshman year of college. I use the term “band” very loosely here because we broke up after only having three practices. Weirdly, we managed to still squeeze in a performance for 200 people at the San Francisco State University Pride festival. I had no musical talent to speak of so I just did handclaps and yelled out the lyrics to a song I wrote called, “We Like The Penis, Penis Doesn’t Like Us Back”, but man oh man was it fun! God, Bobby was so hot. When I left San Francisco, I think I got drunk and Facebooked him, saying that I always had a big crush on him. He never responded though so… bye.

Ariel

Ariel is a woman who sublet my apartment when I went to Europe. I only met her once and that was on the day she moved in. She brought her mom with her, who looked like she had more plastic surgery done than Jocelyn Wildenstein, and after spending 10 minutes with them, I was satisfactorily convinced that Ariel wouldn’t burn my apartment down or turn it into a drug den. She just seemed very “yuppie girl who was looking to have her downtown moment.”

Angela

Angela was my best friend’s roommate in the dorms. She came to college looking very preppy and Banana Republic but then one day she Googled “hipster” (I’m not joking) and cut all her hair off into a bob and started only listening to The Velvet Underground and Spoon. It was weird but also hilarious. She also liked to get wasted and puke everywhere. I actually have a Polaroid of her vomiting in a wastebasket and every time I look at it, I smile. According to Facebook, Angela is in an indie rock band now called “Hello Janitor” or something insane like that.

Brianna

Brianna was my first ever therapist! I started seeing her when I was a senior in high school because being gay was getting… gay… and she helped me out of my funk by being a no-nonsense lesbian! I loved her so much. I remember waiting for her outside of her office every Thursday and watching her pickup truck roar into the driveway. Brianna was understanding and warm but she also sort of terrified me, which is what I think every good therapist should be like. Honestly, if your shrink doesn’t scare you on some level, you need to look for a new one.

Sammi

I interned with Sammi a few summers ago. She was like my ally and we’d always go to lunch together and talk about how terrible everyone was at work. For a second there it felt like we would become real-life friends but then we both were just like, “No.”

Janelle

I went to college with Janelle and for reasons that I’m #NotClearOn, she managed to become a part of my social group for a hot minute. Ugh, she was just unbearable — a totally obnoxious, narcissistic, rich girl.  She lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in the West Village and kept the other room for HER DOG. Yes, that’s right. Her tiny bullshit dog had its own room in the West Village. Fuckin’ New York, man. TC Mark

Ryan O'Connell

I'm a brat.

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