photo courtesy of the author
Eyes feeling tired? Take a listen to the full essay below. I'd love to read it to you.*
*I hope you'll excuse the few, minor flubs. What can I say, sometimes the truth is imperfect.
I know how I looked. I was cool, low maintenance. I could hang with your friends and beat you at bowling. I made odd pop culture references and quoted movies your last girlfriend never wanted to watch. You didn’t have to call me, or text me, or contact me all day, every day or even for days at a time. I let you do your thing. I laughed about (but somehow made it seem like I never physically did) urinate, defecate, expectorate, flatulate, ... any of the “ates”. I wore trendy rompers and made it seem like I actually wanted to sit at your weird friend’s house for long periods of time while you guys got high and listened to music. I was fun, funny even. And I was nothing like your last whatever-it-was. She was crazy. I was different.
I was easy.