When people talk about visiting a place they might say it was awesome, or really colorful or something, but most of the time they don’t mention how their legs ached from walking fifteen miles in one day. How the seagulls called to one another or how lanterns swung back and forth overhead in the warm summer breeze along narrow foreign streets.
I am at that point where having someone to spend not just my nights, but my days with, as well.
“I agreed to have sex with a guy on craigslist in exchange for having sex with his girlfriend.”
“Apparently, a woman walked into his shop and asked him to tattoo a handicapped symbol right above her vagina.”
I’m not ready for that kind of routine. I’m not ready for mortgage payments or that huge loan. I’m not ready to sign my name on a birth certificate. I’m not ready to tame my wanderlust. No, I’m not ready. I’m not ready at all.
I chatted a lot with Gretchen Wyler, Stephanie Mills and Linda Blair, who is breathtakingly gorgeous, as well as a cute boy in a sailor suit who looked like a 20-year-old Tadzio. A drunken man mistook me for a woman named Rachel.
It’s like a downward spiral as I reach for my jeans and t-shirt combo, because why dress nice when my hair looks like it’s been through a wind tunnel?
“He used to love me, and now he’s just a stranger who happens to know all my secrets.”
You know that feeling you get that makes you want to drive into oncoming traffic? The kind that softly urges you to leap off a balcony when you’re peering over the edge of a patio? The part of you that needs to know and feel unknowables?
He spent the first semester having sex with his girlfriend with the door open. I enjoyed yelling into the room, “Can’t let you do that Star Fox!!” to ruin the mood.