He was the best I’d ever had. But that wasn’t good enough
A rejected essay submission specially written for the L.A. Affairs column of the Los Angeles Times.
Our almost-relationship combusted on my 23rd birthday. He was too broke to take me to dinner — or even gift me a one-dollar greeting card. That night, I ate shitty pasta in my little San Pedro apartment and cried myself to slumber, wishing his inaction was unexpected…