#213525 - But I decided the move would be obvious and too self-serving (I prefer to live in a world where the courtesy of the man-code is extended to even one’s enemies and romantic rivals) We walked and talked and soon we were hungry, we agreed to get some take-out food, and then she said: “If I take you to my place, you have to go in quickly, you can’t be seen” I considered protesting, was she ashamed of me? “Are you kidding?” She said, “It’s my landlord, they know my parents, and the Douche-Nozzle” (Note: she didn’t call him the Douche-Nozzle, but I don’t want to humanize the turd by even giving him a made up name) We arrived after dark with a bag of Chinese food and, as instructed, I slipped into her place. Her name was Diane and she was a rich girl (seems like they stick together) Every time I saw her I would imagine the Douche-Nozzle boring the shit out her with his pompous stories of elite soirees on country club lawns. She had a small heart shaped mouth, lovely cheek
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