“You…you don’t know how to swim? How didn’t I know that?” “I dunno,” I say with a shrug. “Guess it never really came up. Not like we ever went to the beach or anything.” “I…” He trails off with what sounds suspiciously like a growl. “The fuck. I feel like a terrible friend for not knowing that.” “Hey, man. It’s okay. Not your fault. I bet you didn’t know I like having my face sat on, either. Some things just don’t come up in conversation.” “Bee,” my friend says slowly. “The fact that you’re putting queening and not knowing how to swim in the same category is—you know what? No. It’s not weird
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