Dear Luke, former produce boy at Food Front Co-op:
A couple of years ago, I drank a cup of mushroom tea on a beautiful snowy morning, and decided for no particular reason to pick up a bag of cotton balls before my adventure through the woods. Not too shockingly, I started peaking as soon as I walked into the store, and the awesomeness of it all was compounded when you, my sometime fellow flirt, magically appeared to help me. I asked as straight-faced as possible where the cotton balls were, and you jokingly handed me a bag of marshmallows—and you have no idea how hilarious and mind-bogglingly charming this was, because you of course had no idea I was peaking on mushrooms at the time. Your gesture and my late-morning inebriation inspired me to give you my number before leaving the store, and led subsequently to our EXTREMELY AWKWARD date, which ended with me reflexively giving you the friend-hug I give all my guy friends, because I was distracted the whole time debating whether to tell you or not that I was tripping balls when I made my move and that you at the time were pretty much the best thing in the universe. I wish I'd been tripping during our date instead—I would have kissed you a lot, and it would have made the movie we went to much better. Anyway, I see you around town now and then, and I always want to confess, I think you'd appreciate the story. I think you have a girlfriend now, but you're still pretty foxy and I had a great time meeting you. Even though it didn't work out, I'm glad tripping on mushrooms at least gave me the guts to be forward once. Your turn!
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