A Good Provider (Is Hard To Find)

We didn’t care about the Super Bowl—we cared about the open bar. The pent house hosted a New Orleans jazz band, myriad tv screens, passed appetizers and a bar overflowing with free vodka cocktails. We downed a few and settled on a couch, focusing more of our attention on each other than the game. We schmoozed. We exchanged knowing smiles. When I returned from the bathroom, he had gathered a small plate of sliders. “They’re all yours,” he said. The vegetarian smiled as I hungrily took the plate from him. His eyes were glassy and his grin was dopey. “I’m a good provider.”

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