I was admiring a young gentleman on the bus this morning. He had that great is-he-or-isn't-he-straight style: flared jeans, fitted coat, matching scarf and skullie, le tout ensemble sported with Tims, which I love when black guys do but, well, I've never seen anyone else try it, but if they did it would be horrible. Anyway, he looked good. And as a bonus, he was reading: a brightly colored hardcover, looked like a Jonathan Franzen or something like that. (I actually almost never read contemporary writers because I'm too cheap, but I know what they look like.) Perhaps the choice of literature would give me a clue as to his availability. I shifted in my seat and peered unobtrusively. The Abs Diet.
Damn.
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