A long, long time ago, in a city far away from South America, I left some clothes at Doug’s place. A v-neck shirt and some nice jeans. I’m pretty absent minded, so I forgot about them. (For the trip to South America, we had all packed really light — merino wool athletic stuff (I left all my hipster accessories back in San Francisco)).
One day in Buenos Aires, Doug busts out some clothes that fit him pretty tightly. He looked pretty good. I was wondering why he looked at me with a fucking cheeky grin on his face (if there’s anything that’s sure to get my attention, it’s a cheeky grin).
HE WAS WEARING MY CLOTHES!!! FROM A LONG ASS TIME AGO!!