Part I: A Voyage to the Temple of Dumb.
I actually listened with an open heart as a man told me "it's not the years, but the mileage honey" and I looked up at him with my 19 year old eyes from the prone position. He talked and it was like a chapter from a book out of the literature section of the independent bookstore down the street from my apartment. Light filled the room and I kind of didn't mind that he was dumping me because it was all so heady.
The smell of nag champa burned little tunnels into my olfactory system. My legs shook. The leather cord around his neck held a talisman and music stitched my side. This must be jazz, I thought. This is life. This is the way the world whimpers and we all bite our lips. I called him back to bed with my heart that was so big and glistening. My heart beat like a ballroom. It wasn't my fault that I glowed. It wasn't his fault that he was so deep.
It took me 15 years to realize he was paraphrasing fucking Indiana Jones.
Up next: Part II: A Voyage to middle feminist earth