Boys Life

My life was not a constant pity party though, I was still in the streets, having fun and chasing girls. Earlier in the week I had taken home this chick from the Fish, a goonie bird as we liked to call girls her shape. 5-10 or more with broad shoulders and sturdy legs, the kind of girl Carlos D of Interpol was famous for romancing. Even when they are pretty, or on the skinnier side of goon, there is something inexplicably goofy about these girls. Being tall does not make you one, neither does being of plus size. If you know goonie birds, you know one when you see one; it comes down to a kinda vibe. It’s no secret that I fucking love a goonie bird now and again, and this girl was goonie with a capital G. I slept with her and afterwards she told me about the last guy she’d slept with, a dude from her gym who hit her during sex. And we’re not talking about the kind of slapping I get down with, she claimed he was pummeling her as he would come. A day or two later I was at Black and White where I ended up making out with one of my friends. Then someone I’d seen around for a long time had shown some interest, asking one of my friends about me. As I remember it, this was all happening at once.