Damn it, I just met the one guy I would actually consider sleeping with on Fire Island (besides my secret crush), but after three seconds I realized his tiny spasms, which at first had an endearing nervous tic quality to them, were most likely meth itches.
Rats. He even had Thundercats tattoos.
But who cares, because I've got a real, legitimate date Friday night! With someone who seems ridiculously out of my league but fuck it, so far he seems cute and funny. Class issues don't have the same resonance with me as they once did. I like to think it's called GROWING UP.
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