ENTRY XXV: Love Sick (Pt. 1)

Dear Diary:

Last night I went to a private reading of emerging New York writer, Clint August. Initially, I wasn't going to go, however, Clint sent me a text message requesting my presence. Honored, I decided to add it to my already busy Saturday night. Besides, he's like a distant brother and I knew that the men at the party would be uber attractive because that's all he fucks with. Finding decent and consistent men in this rotten apple can be a chore. I have found Clint to be one of the few men of integrity here.

Jamar swooped me up in his new blood red Navigator. Show off. He wasn't thinking about Navigators until he started seeing them all over MTV. But this one was special, he bought it for himself after what he calls a shady divorce. I warned him not to date a shady ball queen from Atlanta, but he didn't listen. We sped down Broadway, running late of course. Even with a car, Jamar manages to fuck with my time. I insisted that he pull up in front of the building and drop me off. Since it was his idea to drive, he needed to be punished with finding a parking lot for that monstrosity of a truck. I can't lie, the tan calf leather interior did melt up against my skin. And I love the new car smell, but I dare not share my sentiments so soon. It would let him know that he had one up on me...