. Where to start, where to start?
He already filled y'all in on the fact that we dated for about two weeks, like, what, 14 -- holy shit! 14, dude! -- years ago; our first date set the tone for our relationship. We took a trip to Chicago -- 900 N. Michigan Ave. was the mall we hit -- and we saw these punk-looking Chinese women, one of whom was wearing a "That Slut Girl" t-shirt that I'd coveted forever. So we ask the woman where she got it, and she said what I SWORE at the time was "Flash and Trash" on something and something, couldn't understand her to save my life. But the two of us got into a cab and told the driver to go to whatever and whatever she told us.
At least $30 or $40 in cab fare later, we were in Addison, Ill., and when I finally decided to check a phone book at a Jewel Osco in the middle of nowhere for "Flash and Trash," I of course didn't find it. I DID find "Flashy Trash" on HALSTED, which sounded nothing like anything the Chinese woman had said. Luckily for us, we had enough money to catch a bus back into the city, where we proceeded to get back to the train on time, sans shirt.
Don't remember exactly when or why we decided we weren't going to be a couple anymore, but I remember he did start dating this loathesome little goon named [redacted, but Wad will no doubt remember the snarky way I always said her name], who had all kinds of weird family crap involving, like, incest with her brother or some other wretched weirdness. We spent a month or two being shitty to each other (or rather, I was shitty to him, not because I wanted him necessarily, but most likely because I was pissed that he didn't want me), and then one night, he called me for some reason, and we ended up on the phone for, like, 3 hours laughing our fool heads off and talking about the origins of HIV.
And thus, a kinship was born. I started referring to him as "my little brother," and we spent lots of time together, the end.
Of course, it's not always smoove up in this hizzie. See, while Wad and I love each other to death, we also know how to really piss up each other's rope, and when that happens, we end up not speaking for long periods of time. Like, years of not speaking. It's just the way it is. Now, if I were to venture a guess, for him they aren't so much disagreements as they are trying to get away from me being an overbearing nutjob, which there are several times that, looking back, I don't blame him one little bit. Mere mortals can only handle so much of the crazy, after all. But he's back now, albeit in the capacity he chooses, and I'm glad. He makes me laugh like few people can.
Of course, I'm still going to bug him to take me out driving to Michigan City at night, so we can look at the prison. And then stop at the adult bookstore on 20 afterward, just so I can be the only broad in there, because that's always good for snicks and giggles.
And I can TOO kiss.
Oh, whatEVER. 
