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October 19, 2017
This is the part where he imagines himself draping his arm around your shoulders, scanning the room with a furtive glance with a slightly bowed head, and then muttering out of the corner of his mouth, "The truth is, I don't give a flying about personal hygiene."

And this is where he imagines you recoiling, ducking out from beneath his arm-draping, and saying, "And you're telling me this WHY?"

Instead he continues scratching at his scalp, digging in even, and you tell him, with no apology, but you've really gotta get going and make what's called a beeline down Broadway.