Yes, I realize it’s terribly unfair…I make you wait all of this time, only to give you half a chapter.  More coming soon…I’ve been really busy enjoying summer and working too much for the proverbial “man.”

I continued to see that first guy–the one I had met at Angela’s oh-so-hip birthday party–all over town. His name was a mystery to me. I silently called him “Lou Barlow,” a decidedly uncreative moniker, since he looked exactly like his namesake. He shyly smiled at me across the bar at a showcase of sad bastard music. He watched me drink coffee in the corner at Tiny’s, pretending to stare intently at the lower left hand corner of his paperback whenever I looked up from my notebook. Once, perhaps feeling particularly saucy after a few trips to the keg, he winked at me at an excruciating hipster dance party (everyone was jumping around, pretending their enjoyment of Justin Timberlake was merely ironic).

I ignored him, feigning ignorance and a memory conveniently erased by alcohol. I had no interest in knowing his name. I would have considered sleeping with him again, but only if I could once again disappear before dawn.

I had known too many fellows like him: surprisingly conventionally handsome, but wearing the mask of the delicate wallflower. A vague liberal or fine arts education. An alleged interest in photography, painting, or writing. Or worse, a terrible band churning out painful anthems of angst. A meager income spent on records and booze. Plaid shirts from the thrift store.

These boys seemed so palatable on the surface. “Oh, look, he’s not only cute, but he’s SENSITIVE and he likes ALL OF THE SAME THINGS AS ME!” But their skins peel back with the ease of the ripest banana, revealing only the blandest, smoothest apple sauce. Read the rest of this entry »