XXI

I'm sitting in Starbucks. Two tables down a man in his mid thirties is reading The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats. He's not really reading. He's been on same page for the past 20 minutes, and keeps glancing up. Yes, that's right. Our friend is sitting at Starbucks, pretending to read, in a desperate attempt to attract women.

Back in the day when a man wanted a woman's attention, he would spill a drink on her at a show, hook her up with drugs at a rave, or make sure she had beer at all times at a kegger. If he was really committed, he would break into her house and climb into bed with her parents.

I do not agree with this new mating ritual at all. It's sad and boring.