I am sitting in the coffee shop on 27th, waiting for Dirty Harry to show up so we can discuss the plan. He will not like it. I am nervous. Driving myself crazy trying to think of selling points. For some reason, I feel like I need him for this. Why? I can't tell. To keep from biting my fingernails (a horribly unattractive habit), I open the journal in front of me and start a list:

"Why God Gave Me Herpes" by Bethany Lowe

1) I pulled up my skirt and showed Dusty Raddinger my Rainbow Brite underpants in the 2nd grade.

2) I fed my vegetables to the dog.

3) Sometimes I do not wash my hands after I go to the bathroom.

4) I urinated on the side of the Four Square Church of Light while drunk after a frat party. (It was an emergency, I swear).

5) I broke Gerald Minot's heart. Twice. I shouldn't have done that.

6) I swear often and emphatically.

7) My mother voted for Ronald Reagan while she was pregnant with me.

8) I have had sex with 367 different men.

9) I haven't spoken to my father in over 4 years.

10)

I feel a pair of eyes on me and look up from my pad of paper. There is pale hipster looking boy with dyed black hair and reckless blue eyes gazing at me over his copy of Crime and Punishment. He is pretending to read, but it is a struggle with my humanity he is interested in now. Not Raskolnikov's. I can spot desire from two-thirds of a mile away. True story. Ask conquest #117. I picked him up running at the track field.

I could have this one easily. I might have to. Sometimes, I can't help myself. Dirty Harry better walk through that door soon, or I may end up leaving with Raskolnikov.

I bite my lip and turn back to my list.

10) I fell in love.

I close my journal, give Raskolnikov a glance he'll appreciate and stand up.