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When the Boring Guy Tells Stories
Trying to turn a profoundly uninteresting life into morsels you want to read.
I have not led a very interesting life.
As the boring son of a boring Working-Poor family from Southern California, superfat since birth, who’s suffered from Major Depression since elementary school, who’s spent most of his life writing poetry and searching for friendship on the internet, where people couldn’t immediately reject him, it’s not like it’s easy to come up with spicy stories.
There will be no tales of exotic sex acts performed with random strangers in faraway countries, nor can I talk about the time I had tea and scones with Castro, Kanye, and Secretary Albright in Key West.
Not because those things are classified Top Secret/SCI, but because they never happened.
There’s nothing much in my life to titillate or excite anyone. Especially me.
So, how do I keep you coming back? That’s the million dollar question.
A woman — my first impulse was to use the world girl, not to diminish her, but because, in some part of my mind, we are still those young, fresh-faced teenagers we were before I lost myself in the worst of my depression — who could’ve been in high school with me is now one of the most…
