Reasons I Went Home with Them: an Alphabet of One-Night Stands
A seemed tormented and sad and was into history and Existentialism and porn and played basketball and piano.
B was planning on going to nursing school, and he saved me from the guy at the bar I didn't want to talk to.
C could talk about Foucault, philosophy, and sociology at length. I guess you could say he had me at "Foucault." And he played in a band.
America has always sold itself like a potluck dinner—“Bring your culture! Bring your grandma’s recipes! Bring the funky spices we can pretend we invented!”