J. Beaman - The Magazine

1 a.m. - after a shockingly pleasant 14 hour date - She’s driving me to the bus stop.

“What are you going to do tonight?”
“I’m go—”
“I know what you’re going to do! Check your email, writing your blog. ‘Oh my god! She wants me to go to the beach. And….! And…! She wants me to take my shirt off.’ That’s what you’ll say. Right? Right?”
“I think maybe. Something like that.”
“No. No.”
She shakes her head like a crazy person. Moves her hands around. I wish she was paying closer attention to the road.
“And all of your oh-so-smart friends who don’t wash their hair will read it and will say ‘Who is this girl?’”
Pause. I’m trying not to laugh.
“Well, they can go read a sad book and hang out with an ugly girl. I don’t care.”