as we headed out of the restaurant parking lot, jessica stopped the car to let a girl walk by in front of us. “i like her skirt,” i said.
“so do i,” jessica said. “you know, most of the time when i look at other people, i’m looking at their clothes. checking out what they’re wearing.”
“me too,” i said.
“i’ve always wanted someone to notice me looking at them, and come over to me all angry and say, ‘what are you looking at?’ and i’d say, ‘your shirt. i like your shirt.'”
“and then they’d feel totally shamed?”
“i’ve always wanted that to happen, too.”
sometimes my weirdest thoughts turn out to be pretty normal.