Whenever I speak to a fresh American, almost always the conversation turns to how I managed to survive in such a dangerous environment. They’re talking about all the deadly animals and the heat and I guess the nasty nature stuff that was used as propaganda in the days when being sent to “The Colonies” was a punishable crime, and parents would use it to keep their kids in line. I get it, my country is big and red and we have deserts to spare, but that doesn’t mean we were all raised Survivor-style then moved to the cities when we came of age.
I have a near crippling neurosis of eating out. Not in a sex way, I do that fine, but in a going to a restaurant and sitting down by myself and dining kind of way. It’s fine if I’m with another person/s but for some reason by myself I go through a struggle akin to devil possession. Finally, at 25 and with the chances marginally high that I will be alone forever, I decide I must break this mould, as a matter of survival.