I don’t think too much about not having a boyfriend,

but when you’re dogsitting and a noise that sounds like a human being sighing wakes you up at way past midnight o’clock and you’re not totally sure if that’s what it was but you know that if it was indeed, then he–and it’s a he in your mind–probably doesn’t want to talk to you about your love of British tv shows and Justin’s Chocolate Almond Butter because that’s not what rapemurderthieves do and you can’t decide if subsequent noises are just “house settling” or rapemurderthieving preparation and your body produces enough cortisol to fuel a fear factory (which sounds like an RL Stine series), then you really wish Jesse Williams was here to go investigate instead of just locking yourself in the bedroom and googling “can you text 911?”.

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About J.

A former twentysomething with a head full of curls and heart full of questions wondering: when we get to nirvana, will there be food?
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