He gave me a blow job in the parking lot at 128. We exchanged, like, three words.” “That’s gross.” “Oh my God,” he said. “You are so homophobic.” “Oh, please. He could have murdered you.” “And that makes it gross?” “It’s just a little extreme,” I said. “Like maybe you’re acting out.” “I thought you worked with Bay Area homeless kids. How is this extreme?” “You don’t prostitute yourself to pay your rent.” “That may change,” he said. “Whatever. My point is, is this really what you want to be engaging in? Wouldn’t you rather have a boyfriend?” He gaped at me, incredulous. In my exhaustion I had
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