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He took me to Goony Golf and we sat up inside the giant Mondo Head in the dark and he kissed me, which I was prepared for, but then he made an unauthorized reach for the boob. Luckily I was wearing my new special sports b*a with all the complicated hardware and about fifteen layers of fabric between me and the outside world, impervious to both nuclear weapons and unauthorized groping, and when I pushed Greg away and said, “What are you doing?” he answered, “Come on, babe, I love you,” and—
WHAT??? This guy doesn’t even know me. We’ve been going out for two weeks! He doesn’t know the first thing about me. He doesn’t know what there is to like about me, let alone love about me.
He doesn’t know how well I can cook or that I can play Beethoven’s Fifth blindfolded (okay, just the first fe
