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He Smoked a Joint with Me and Then Demanded a Blowjob
Good thing I have a good set of lungs on me
“We’ve come a long way,” I like to tell the younger women in my life. I say this while imagining I am the wise old matriarch whose sole purpose is to infuse positivity and strength into the cause.
I say this while looking at the young women in my life and hoping they never find themselves in some of the predicaments I’ve found myself in over the years.
I say this, knowing they won’t because they are much more intelligent than I ever was.
We’ve come a long way.
Still, I worry. So I’ll write stories about the bad things I’ve experienced in this fast-moving life. I pray to a god I don’t quite believe in that the young women in my life will never put themselves into these types of positions because, once upon a time, a wise old matriarch told them a fucked up story about her life.
The lights were of the string variety and haphazardly slung over fenceposts at varying intervals. At sixteen years old, I didn’t care about string lights. It’s only a detail that hangs useless in my mind when I look back.
At sixteen years old, I was more concerned about finding a beer.
