Ah, Halloween. The perfect chance to dress up as a sexy pineapplea sparkly unicornor a not -so-fetch Regina George. There is also the effing hilarious and almost always mortifying moment you hook up with someone in said costume…aaaand the morning after.
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I was in a bad way, I guess. I had lost all confidence, all vague assurance that somewhere there was an attractive woman who wanted to spend time with the likes of me. Lofty mating expectations were particularly unreasonable for me on this night, dressed as I was: a human American flag with exposed white thighs and a poor excuse for a mustache. It was my first experience with real heartbreak, and afterward my confidence rivaled that of a flat-chested freshman at her first high school pool party.
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