 |
| Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2 |
I agreed to have dinner with my neighbor yesterday evening. She framed the
invitation as a friendly stranger passing by me in the hallway, but she knew
who I was, and has read some of my blog. She’s not a crazy stalker, though, if
that’s what you’re thinking. I’ve just been pretty good at marketing my site
in the local area. There’s a bulletin board in the lobby of our apartment
complex, for instance, where people can post lost animal flyers, or musical
instrument lessons. I printed out a slip of paper that just gives my address,
and tacked it up there. It doesn’t even say what the site is, so people have
to try it to see. There aren’t enough people living here to make much of a
dent in my readership—especially not these days—but marketing is all about
cost versus return, and it cost me almost nothing. Anyway, the dinner went
well, she was very nice, and a really good cook. She’s a vegetarian too, so I
didn’t have to worry about making her feel bad about making something special
on my account. She prepared us sweet potato and black bean enchiladas with
avocado crema. Sweet potatoes are one of those foods that I had to grow to
like later in life, and I’m glad I did for this situation. I’m sure you’re all
wondering if sparks were flying, but please don’t. Where I’m from, it’s
annoyingly taboo for a man and a woman to be friends. Even the wokest of folk
think that it doesn’t work, but as an omnisexual, I say, what even is a
man, and what is a woman? Your “theory” may stop making sense
when you answer that. There’s nothing romantic going on between us, and there
wouldn’t be even if I weren’t loyal to Cricket.
No comments :
Post a Comment