yes. really.

Many years ago, I was driving an old friend, Beth, to dinner. Recounting a deep and dark secret from her past, she was in tears. Actual weeping. This is all the more significant because she never, ever cries. She laid her heart bare that day. It was unprecedented vulnerability from a taciturn person.

As I pulled into a parking spot, she was in mid-sentence. A pretty girl in a brown ponytail entered my field of vision. WHAM! I racked my Jeep against the curb.

“Fucking really?” said a throughly disgusted Beth.