Diary of a
Late Winter Romance.
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February 19
I met a hot guy just chillin' in my neighbor's front yard. He's got to be a musician: vintage top hat, deathly sexy pale skin, and a self-destructive streak that isn't cliché—he smokes a pipe... and it's corncob. He's a little chubby, but what really got me were his intense, coal-black eyes and the way he looked at me: unblinking.
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February 20
Talked to bad-boy-next-door again today. He's the silent type but he's got a confident smirk and his teeth are unevenly spaced (probably from bar fights) and black, because what real punk does dental care? So. Crazy. Hot.
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February 21
A house sparrow perched on his shoulder and he didn't brush it away—even when it started pecking at his cheek. I love a guy who has suffered so much he's immune to pain. Can't wait to hear one of his songs and find out what kind of hell he's lived through.
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February 22
The weather's warming up and I saw a pretty freaky thing: a single tear running down his face. Pretty sure he's writing a song about us.
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February 24
Overnight, he's slimmed down. I hope it's from heroin because I wonder about a guy who changes himself so fast just because I casually mentioned Iggy Pop's abs. I'm not a fan of suggestible dudes. Plus, he's still crying.
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February 25
I'm noticing things about him that I must have blocked before. His nose is huge and covered in self-tanner which makes it look orange. He's bald and his head is misshapen. He's got a death grip on a broom. I get that rockers sometime have to take menial jobs but why bring the broom home?
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February 26
Spring is in the air and my guy is in a nonstop cold sweat. Please, please, please let it be from a drug habit withdrawal and not because he's thinking of popping the question.
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February 27
This sucks. He's lost an arm. How does that happen when your job is sweeping? Now I'll never hear him play his axe. I knew in my heart it was over even before this happened, but when I broke up with him he just stared at me. And then one of his teeth fell out.
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February 28
My now-ex is emaciated, crying non-stop, and won't leave my neighbor's yard. Can you say stalker?
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March 1
My shadow moved on to his next gig, but left his top hat and broom. Rock on, dude. Nice knowing you. Next time, I'm going for the nice-guy country singer who visits my neighbor's vegetable patch every spring.
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OTHER McSWEENEY'S FEATURES:
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Diary of a Late Winter Romance By Kate Hahn
Coffee Bean Comment Cards as Written by a Recently Laid-Off Tonight Show With Conan O'Brien Staffer By Christian Lynch
Answers to Dr. Brain-Wizard's Logic Puzzles By Curtis Retherford
A Message of Apology from the Commander of Undersea EnviroDome 25-B By Michael Lacher
Marxist-Socialists Jokes By Jesse Eisenberg
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