An Open Letter to A Man I Lied to:
A. Dear man I went on a date with via Craigslist and who used to sell pacemakers,
I didn’t actually have diabetes. I wasn’t actually getting sleepy because of the massive carbohydrate content of the Fat Tire Amber that I was drinking. In fact, I can out drink almost everyone I know (I said, almost) without making out with my female friends and taking my shirt off randomly. I didn’t actually feel sick. You were just really boring. And you had a ponytail. So there was no way you were coming upstairs. Sorry. Wait, except not really.
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