first moved to Portland, I used to almost daily. If I had change and somebody asked for it, I would give it to them. But I eventually stopped. Mostly because I stopped using cash and was paying for everything with a debit card. I just didn’t have change to give away. But they kept asking. Corner after corner, day after day. When I did have change to give, they wouldn’t thank me for it. When I apologized for not having change, they would get pissed off and spit on my shoes. Donut happened to be the worst of them. He was a stocky black guy with a bright orange sweater who strolled around Pioneer Square. He wouldn’t ask me for change outright. First, he would ask me if I had a problem with black people. I would say no. He would then ask me for money. Then I would give it to him, as if that was proof that I truly did not have a problem with black people. He would follow me for a block and ask for a little more. I would give him whatever I had, even a dollar or two. Then he’d ask for a little more. If I ever refused him, he would call me a racist.
He’d say, “Oh, I see now, you’re a skinhead. Well, sieg heil, skinhead!” He’d continue yelling at me until I was two blocks away. “Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil!”
So, after half a dozen confrontations like that, I avoided all interaction with the homeless. I didn’t even make eye contact. But on that day, walking in the park blocks, I gave my $200 coat to Donut, the same homeless guy who called me a racist for not giving him money.
I’m not sure why I did it. I didn’t want to give him the coat. I didn’t do it because I had something to prove. I just saw a guy freezing on a park bench, covered him with my coat, and continued on. Maybe it was because I was with Stacy. Maybe I was just so happy walking next to her that it made me want to make somebody else happy, too. I don’t know.
But after she saw me give away my coat as if it were the most common thing to do in the world, Stacy stopped me in the park, leaned down and kissed me as deeply as she possibly could, and then she told me that she loved me with her shiny dark eyes.
That night, we made love, and the next thing I knew she was moving her big fluffy bed into my place.
Not long after that, I ran into Donut again. He was still calling me a Nazi, wearing my $200 coat over his orange sweater. I couldn’t stop smiling at him. He sieg heiled me and I just smiled back. I could tell it just pissed him off even more, because he threatened to beat the crap out of me, but I was just so happy that morning that nothing could possibly bother me.
CHAPTER TWO
I haven’t had sex with Stacy for over a month now, but I’m still crazy for her. I still love everything about her. Her smell, her smile, the sound of her voice. She has unique ways of doing things that are so cute I want to cry.
Like, this is the way she eats a burger from Carl’s Jr:
First, she’ll wipe off all of the mustard, mayonnaise and ketchup with a plastic butter knife and swirl it into a puddle on the burger’s wrapper. Then she’ll disassemble the burger and cut the buns into small squares. She’ll stab a piece of bun with a fork, then stab one other ingredient. Either a chunk of meat, some cheese, a pickle, a tomato, or lettuce. Then she’ll swirl the food in the sauce and eat it.
“I like my food separated,” she always says. “I like to control the flavor.”
She does that with all her food. Pizza, burritos, sandwiches, lasagna, even curry stews. It’s incredibly cute. I also have a quirky way of eating. Whenever I take a bite of food, I never let my lips touch the eating utensil. I just use my teeth. Stacy doesn’t think it’s cute, though. She hates the sound of my teeth scraping against a metal fork. She always tells me to stop. I don’t stop, though, because she’s even cuter when she’s annoyed.
Other cute things about her:
She pets every animal she ever sees in public. She dances naked to Prince. She licks her glasses
He’d say, “Oh, I see now, you’re a skinhead. Well, sieg heil, skinhead!” He’d continue yelling at me until I was two blocks away. “Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil!”
So, after half a dozen confrontations like that, I avoided all interaction with the homeless. I didn’t even make eye contact. But on that day, walking in the park blocks, I gave my $200 coat to Donut, the same homeless guy who called me a racist for not giving him money.
I’m not sure why I did it. I didn’t want to give him the coat. I didn’t do it because I had something to prove. I just saw a guy freezing on a park bench, covered him with my coat, and continued on. Maybe it was because I was with Stacy. Maybe I was just so happy walking next to her that it made me want to make somebody else happy, too. I don’t know.
But after she saw me give away my coat as if it were the most common thing to do in the world, Stacy stopped me in the park, leaned down and kissed me as deeply as she possibly could, and then she told me that she loved me with her shiny dark eyes.
That night, we made love, and the next thing I knew she was moving her big fluffy bed into my place.
Not long after that, I ran into Donut again. He was still calling me a Nazi, wearing my $200 coat over his orange sweater. I couldn’t stop smiling at him. He sieg heiled me and I just smiled back. I could tell it just pissed him off even more, because he threatened to beat the crap out of me, but I was just so happy that morning that nothing could possibly bother me.
CHAPTER TWO
I haven’t had sex with Stacy for over a month now, but I’m still crazy for her. I still love everything about her. Her smell, her smile, the sound of her voice. She has unique ways of doing things that are so cute I want to cry.
Like, this is the way she eats a burger from Carl’s Jr:
First, she’ll wipe off all of the mustard, mayonnaise and ketchup with a plastic butter knife and swirl it into a puddle on the burger’s wrapper. Then she’ll disassemble the burger and cut the buns into small squares. She’ll stab a piece of bun with a fork, then stab one other ingredient. Either a chunk of meat, some cheese, a pickle, a tomato, or lettuce. Then she’ll swirl the food in the sauce and eat it.
“I like my food separated,” she always says. “I like to control the flavor.”
She does that with all her food. Pizza, burritos, sandwiches, lasagna, even curry stews. It’s incredibly cute. I also have a quirky way of eating. Whenever I take a bite of food, I never let my lips touch the eating utensil. I just use my teeth. Stacy doesn’t think it’s cute, though. She hates the sound of my teeth scraping against a metal fork. She always tells me to stop. I don’t stop, though, because she’s even cuter when she’s annoyed.
Other cute things about her:
She pets every animal she ever sees in public. She dances naked to Prince. She licks her glasses
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