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Last
night I had the idea that Christopher wouldn't contact me for a while
because our conversation got too deep last night. But just like
clockwork he sent me a text a few minutes past nine today. I'm part
of his schedule now – he drinks cheap wine and chats with me while
browsing Facebook because he has no friends in Queens. I'm just
like a “Talk to a Virtual Co-Ed” Smartphone app. Except I have
feelings.
Christopher is a normal healthy human male who enjoys making friends and being
social – the complete
opposite of my experience.
Trying to deal
with him with nothing but Marie Claire for
help is like being stuck in a foreign country with no knowledge of
the language except a page torn from a WWI phrasebook. The page about
something archaic and useless, like sending telegrams.
Anyway, we're set to Skype tomorrow. He said he wouldn't tell his Barcelona stories via text.
Anyway, we're set to Skype tomorrow. He said he wouldn't tell his Barcelona stories via text.
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