We’re girls! We’re wise; we’re complex—all your connections are nuanced.
“I really like you….a lot,” the thing of my personal obsession silently muttered if you ask me after taking a gigantic slug of their white wine. “But we can’t become with each other. I Believe we ought to just be pals,”
My personal cardiovascular system fell onto the pub flooring and made a noisy proverbial BANG noises since it hit steel crushed.
“What? Precisely why?” we yelped.
I had been the throes of a two-week, intensely lesbian, dreamy, whirlwind, rapid-fire romances with a beautiful fashion designer named Lee.* From the moment we satisfied both on a rainy, booze-fueled Fourth of July sunday, we were very dependent on both.Continue reading