I’m swearing down book gender. You know, phone-to-phone, text-to-text, filthy rotten vowel-free intercourse.
It had been Dave, my boss during the record shop where We worked, just who initially launched me. Dave was a scary guy, an ex-convict with a volatile temper and a rap sheet to match. He was jailhouse-bald with a smoker’s look, muddy tattoos, and shorts three sizes too-big.Continue reading