The extent of my domestic dream equals having my own washer and dryer, and that’s only because I’m not communally inclined and don’t like thinking about other people’s germs.
We are hiking. A mixture of green and arid canyon viewssurrounds us as we climb a steep trail. She is one of the most beautifulgirls I know — high cheekbones, porcelain skin, the whole bit. We’re both slender andwearing baseball hats to protect our faces from the sun. We’rehuffing and puffing because we haven’t hiked for a while. But the pantingdoesn’t keep us from the subject at hand. She tells me she’sthinkingabout moving away from Los Angeles because she’s tired of being single and believes there are no good men here.
I don’t agree with her; I meet plenty of good men. I just haven’t wanted to take things further with them. But then again, after three excellentlong-term relationships, I’m picky…
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