Has
this happened to you? You let a guy (or girl) crash on your couch. They make a
move. You reject ‘em. Then...you feel the guilt set in (it’s not just the lapsed
Catholic in me, right?):
"We don't have to go out or anything," he
said. "We can just have a good time." He tickled my arm again, and it
felt heavy, like the time I got hypnotized in a failed attempt to quit smoking
pot. I started to feel resigned, like I was going to lose the debate anyway. Maybe I
should just give him a handjob, I thought.
Maybe that will shut him up.
Janice
Erlbaum had a big, brash, tough-girl comic stance, but late at night and
after an intense break-up (and a few joints) things can change. In this fabulous,
honest and funny essay, she opens up about the creepiest
night she ever spent on her couch. And the readers, both men and women, are
already responding
with similar stories. Check ‘em out.
