I'm getting ready in the bathroom this morning wearing a pair of white linen pants and a black bra when the boy I'm seeing says, "I like those pants."
I reply, "Really?" because thus far in the morning he's criticized my artwork (or lack thereof), my choice of soap (bar, and not fancy), and the absence of dowels (to hold up the window so he can smoke cigarettes at 8:45 a.m.)... all in a ten minute time frame.
"Yeah," he says. "I like them... Now I'm just waiting to see how you fuck them up with your top."
And people wonder why I drink.