Fake Lesbian
One of the quintessential parts of living in a college town is drunk students hanging out in the streets, before bar-close, after bar-close, and basically any time of day. Like any smart woman who doesn't want to be hassled by skeazy guys, I am a fake lesbian.
Named Ellen.
Who lives on the fifth block of Ninth.
And is 22.
And is dating a girl named Amy.
Who was mad at me for not liking her friends.
Yes, there is nothing like getting hit on at 3 in the morning. Three guys came up to me on my way back askng if I wanted to smoke weed with them. I declined, of course. They followed me across the street until I would talk to them. They were too wasted to take a hint, so I had to spell it out for them. They let me go, except one wanted to walk me back, fully aware of my pretended sexual preference. I convinced him to leave me alone around Sixth Ave.
enh, all in a day.
Named Ellen.
Who lives on the fifth block of Ninth.
And is 22.
And is dating a girl named Amy.
Who was mad at me for not liking her friends.
Yes, there is nothing like getting hit on at 3 in the morning. Three guys came up to me on my way back askng if I wanted to smoke weed with them. I declined, of course. They followed me across the street until I would talk to them. They were too wasted to take a hint, so I had to spell it out for them. They let me go, except one wanted to walk me back, fully aware of my pretended sexual preference. I convinced him to leave me alone around Sixth Ave.
enh, all in a day.
posted by Liz @ 1:48 AM
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