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“That cannot be worth it,” I say, as I refill lass for the third–or was this the fourth–tiht too much to worry about it

“Are you kidding?”her eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t pop out of her skull She snatches the wine bottle froh it’s still half full “The stories alone are so worth it”

“Dating all these crazy weirdos, though?”

“Well, I didn’t knoas a crazy weirdo before I went ho on paper”

“Okay, sorry, back to your story” I wave a hand at her, trying to reoing great, you wound up back at his, but then…?”

“Right, we’re both naked, on his bed, and he…” She grirabs my shoes–you know, the Jio?”

I griod…”

“And he puts the to pullme to call him ‘Mommy’ while we screw”

I can’t help it I burst into laughter So does Violet, shaking her head and holding back tears as she describes her flight fro she could before fleeing for the street to hail a cab

“But what about the shoes?” I protest, still laughing

“Alas” She sobers a little, resting a hand over her heart “May my poor Jimmy Cho’s rest in peace” She shakes her head “I literally hopped in a cab barefoot, I was that desperate”

I snort and roll onto round, old Sex and the City reruns are playing, but we’re enjoying swapping our bad dating stories too much to pay attention

Or rather, I’ to Violet’s, since it’s not like I can contribute many of my own

“What about you, Joyce?” Violet asks, refilling her wine glass again “Got any good stories for me at last?”

“Not likely,” I respond, shooting her a you knohy sideways glare

She sighs draive up the V-card, huh?”