So I happened upon a black and white movie called Man-Proof on the Turner Classic Movies channel the other night. To my surprise — nay, horror — the movie was my life on film, and I’ve never felt more condemned by a fictional tale in all my days. Indeed, the
So I met a guy at a bar. (Fine: my bad, that’s what I get, etc. But please, allow me to continue.) In the dusk and dampness of Marvin‘s on U-Street, this man was fine: 6’4 — at least — dark and smooth, wearing a fly-but-sensible suit that says “I
I met this beautiful man at a popular lounge in the District a few weeks ago. He was “the man,” literally. As the manager of the establishment, he addressed my concerns about the abhorrent customer service my friends and I had just received. Voice like milk and honey, and calm
“Love isn’t blind, it’s retarded” Do most people “date in the dark,” or is it just me? Always a sucker for a gorgeous smile, I have a history of misdirecting my focus towards what is “good on paper” while ignoring what lies beneath (both figuratively and literally), completely raptured in
It was a fairytale beginning, as these things often are. It was my second day at work and I was lost in D.C. with not a dollar’s worth of cash or a clue about direction. Cursing my sense of direction and armed with only an address, I scoured South East