Thursday, July 29, 2004

Well, the guy who does HIV testing at the community center calls me "sweetie." He is also the perfect example of a guy who could play the guitar on a park bench and you could just sink your head into his lap while he strums the guitar and thinks about how beautiful life is...

...until we get ticketed for loitering, that is, but that's all we got. I think I'll make him wear green. He'd look good in green... and white pants.

Of course, this fantasizing is all I have, because he's past twenty and the rules of the agency he hails from preclude him from coming into any contact with the nubile young girls of the community center beyond scraping the roof of their mouths to test for HIV.

But he does call me sweetie.

And that gets him extra points.

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