…the smell of your hair after fourteen hours in my homemade “sweat lodge.”
…what you did to my sandwich.
…a horseradish facial mask.
…playing “Seven Minutes in Heaven” with your cat.
…your Star Trek-themed bedroom aids.
…surprising me with what you just found in your sleeping Uncle’s “folds.”
…using “Velveeta” as your S&M safe word.
…a man in a trench coat nicknamed “Mister Sads.”
…that tattoo of a shamrock on your prosthetic leg.
…a coral snake up the ol’ wazoo.
…an all-expense-paid vacation to the “dream cabin” in your attic.
…being forced to take part in your boss’s daughter’s “deflowering ceremony.”
…a moldy peach stuffed in a tube sock and left on my windowsill as a token of friendship.
…that all-day lovemaking session in the back booth of a Beefsteak Charlie’s.
…the influx of randy e-mails from Barbara Bush.
…a three-way with you, me, and that dimwitted bagger from Piggly Wiggly.
…Grandpa’s famous shin massage.
…what I left in your garden.