You’ve got to be kidding me.

There are advertisements for this on the Green Line Train:

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Who’s who? The Love Stain Glossary.

G: Well-traveled conquest from college. He’s now writing on the East coast. Much much smarter than I. Also better looking. Wasn’t meant to be.Rating: Five out of Five kisses. He really was pretty spectacular, he’ll tell you so himself.

B: Large male friend. Sometimes offers me black magic love spells and threatens to beat up men who’ve hurt me. These, of course, are empty threats. But they are still sweet.

M: My greatest, most melodramatic heartbreak. It was a teenage thing. Wasn’t meant to be.

J: Neurotic bartender/writer extraordinaire. Dated for a few months. Let’s not discuss that. Puts a genuine effort into living. As B. puts it “he really cares about the little things….like finding the perfect flavor of cheddar, the kind that really rolls around in your mouth.” He really likes doing compulsory domestic activities like laundry. North Side snob. Sometimes we Karoake.

Rating: Four out of Five kisses. Very talented and charming; and surprisingly good at singing Neil Diamond songs.

KW: Our friendship began in 1998 and mostly revolved around me copying his physics homework, and waxing melodramatic about my “crush” on him. In my defense I was 16; I also fancied myself an actress-in-training, considered Mariah Carey an “artist” and ate pizza with Oreos on it. KW now lives with his lovely wife and dog in WI.

Rating: No kisses. He’s married!

T: 21-yr-old boy. Emphasis on word “boy.” Possibly a klepto.

Rating: No kisses. Don’t steal on a date, ’nuff said.

P: Male friend who likes to settle.

Conversation.

Paul: You have a boyfriend?

Me: Yeah…

Paul: Wait. YOU have a boyfriend?

Me: Um. Yeah.

Paul: Is this some kind of ploy to make men find you more attractive?  You know, the “want what I can’t have” scenario….

Me: No.

Paul: Are you sure?

Me: Yes, Paul.  Because, you know, I’ve decided to revise my other ploy-being a pudgy, pale, cynical, smartass.  In spite of its success, I’m not adverse to change.

I value narcissism in others, but only if they think I’m cute.

I really admire people (especially men) who have that kind of confidence wherein they believe they can do or get anything–all women want them, all men are jealous of them, all heroes in movies are based on actual events that may or may not have occurred in their life.

And, hey, there is something strongly evocative about someone who thinks so highly of themselves. They must know some secret, have some understanding of the world around them, maybe knowledge of some old sorcery that lets them manipulate those around them to an extent that I never will be able to, that I’m not sure I even want to. But still, I admire it.

Unless of course, they act like they’re too good for me or something.

Then they can fuck themselves.