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the first thing

The first thing I asked her – after she’d downed all four shots – was how long she’d known she was gay.

“Forever,” she said, and belched.

“What’s your earliest memory, though?”

She stared off into the distance and actually gave it some thought. “There’s actually two things I remember. One was Mr. Hopkins.”

“Mr. Hopkins?”

“Yeah. He was this old asshole I had to live with when I was little.”

I frowned, but thought better than to ask about it now. After all, she was actually talking, and she hadn’t even propositioned me yet.

“Anyway, he said, ‘Riley, one day you’re gonna grow up and get married and have kids of your own.’ I was, like, four or something, and I didn’t know shit about sex… but I saw all the men and women who were married on TV, and I just knew that was never gonna happen for me.

“So I was like, ‘Nunh-unh.’

“And he was like, ‘Oh yes you are.’

“And I was like, ‘Nunh-unh.’

“And he got really mad and was like, ‘Yes you ARE.’

“And I was like, ‘NUNH-UNH.’”

Maybe it was the shot o
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