I
want to fast forward because that’s the easy thing to do, but I have to tell
you about something that happened in between that evening and the time when the
pot kicked in, because it eventually did: I lost my virginity. This time it was
my physical innocence, not my psychedelic sense of naivete. That happened
later. Not that much later, but later.
It
was with a guy named Eric. He was – maybe he still is, I don’t know – a Domino’s
pizza deliveryman. I thought he was super
old. He was maybe 23.
He
was – maybe he still is, I don’t know – a friend of my roommate. Let me stop
for a minute and describe Sandy, with whom I shared a home for the better part
of my time at UCSB. If the stork and a pear had a baby, that would be my
roommate. Sandy was into anime and all things that weren’t her: delicate,
flowery, little. Origami, that was Sandy’s sensibility. Concrete in her shoes,
that way of thumping through life, that was her reality.
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