… my life … really? … it’s come to THIS? … but NO …. swing down chariot . . .


He writes:

“Hey I’m 21 white 5.9 145 average slim build 7cut no pix but good looking brown hair blue eyes… live in spring ridge. What do u look like?  How old any pix?”

I answer that I am not Brad Pitt but not repugnant. I do not offer my genital dimensions. I do not send pictures.

“Do u wanna hook up  somewhere private or something? I have roommate so somewhere safe like the Weis in spring Ridge is open 24 hrs a day and dead at night so bathroom there maybe??”

I don’t answer at all. I am, instead, reading a book and wondering JUST HOW this got to be my life. A bathroom? In a grocery store? What the actual fuck?

I cry. I listen to a song. Swing down chariot and get me the fuck out of here . . .  Chaka makes EVERYTHING better. I sang this like a madman in my youth in my room … I didn’t just do musical theatre.

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