October 25th, 2004


(no subject)

I met him at a party, the kind you go to just to be seen at. The buffet table had chocolate covered strawberries, and I was staring at them from across the room when he approached me holding a full glass of champagne. Tall, broad shouldered with a chiseled jaw, he was the very model of what the American man wanted to be. The words fly out of my mouth without warning.
“I’m not going to fuck you.”

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