If you've read anything I've ever
written, you know I've made no secret that, pre-2000ish, I was beyond clueless
when it came to the mysteries and secrets of the female species. I mean, naiveté isn't even
in it; when it came to girls, I took being dense to a Rembrandt-level art form.
I was the Beatles of obliviousness. But I wasn't always
that way... Read on after the jump!
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
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