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No, this isn’t about me, even though Mark Exposito called me a hussy when I was in the 4th grade. Why? Because I beat him in a hoops game. (Not that I hold a grudge or anything. I don’t. But he laughed at me when I had to sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star as my audition for a part in the 6th grade production of Tom Sawyer. I’ve never forgiven him for that.) I didn’t even know what ‘hussy’ meant – I had to go home and look it up (because I knew instinctively not to ask MoC).  And seriously, what 10 year old even knows that word? I bet he’s still creepy.

But I digress. I’m not the shameless hussy, but I got this text at work today from a (straight) friend who shall remain nameless (but clearly shameless).


Me: What?

S.H.: Phone sex

Me: I can’t. I have a meeting in 5 minutes.

All of that actually happened, including the meeting. Now that I think about it, phone sex would have been preferable.

Call me.