“You know, I’m not a complete douchebag.” “I don’t think you’re a douchebag at all. I think you’re”—I paused to consider whether I wanted to be completely honest with him and decided I did—“a spoiled trust fund baby who doesn’t view anyone who works for a living as his equal.” His head snapped back like I’d slapped him. I quickly added, “I don’t think it’s entirely your fault. You grew up filthy rich. It’s what you know.” “Jeez, Rosemary, I think I’d like it better if you did think I was a douchebag,” he mumbled.
