I know you visited Paris for a month. I know it was life changing. I know you hooked up with some dude named André who read you poetry and/or gave you chlamydia. I’m sure it was amazing. You know what I don’t need? To hear you compare everything to that one fucking month over and over again. I mean, we’re eating at El Pollo Loco. How the hell does any of that even relate?
(A Guest Dealbreaker written by Gus, who writes for 2 of our favorite blogs, Illinois Airship and Boner Party)
