Tonight, I am going to a bar with my mother's tenant. This is after I listen to a radio show about how a woman who goes to Duke is embarrased about a paper she wrote about sleeping with men. When I was in my senior year of college I openly told my entire class exactly how many men I had slept with, some of them were even in the room. A word of advice to this woman; people don't forget these kinds of things and neither will you. I hope you are prepared to never be able to date again with out thinking it's research, because it is.
I spend the summers of middle and high school at a sleep away camp in Gainesville, NY. Here I learn how to shoot a bow and arrow, kayak, ride a horse, and fall in love. In my last year as a camper there is a three day camp out. The boys sneak over to our tarp and offer us cigarettes and a sip out of their liquor filled water bottle.
He is in a band. He has gigs. We go to camp together and are in the play The Lion King. I play Simba because I have the best roar and he is Timon, the meercat. This is in complete opposition to our entire relationship. He kisses me in the wardrobe room. I am confronted by a woman in the bathroom at the Show Place Theater on Grant Street. I am eating my lunch alone in the Pratt cafeteria the day I see him on MTV.
He is dyslexic. This makes him very uncomfortable and he cries in my bed after I correct his spelling.
He thinks I am stupid. He teaches me how to drive a standard but not very well. He also teaches me that models are not to be trusted.
He happens on the pull-out couch at the hotel where I work part time as a housekeeper. I spend the night and come downstairs in the morning still wearing my homecoming dress.
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