Of course, I didn't have a boyfriend, but I made one up. I told them he was much older, and if they bothered me he would make short work of them. They said "Oh yeah? Where does he live?" and I thought about a place really far to explain his absence: Arkansas. I said he had a job and he worked on cars. My girlfriends and I had white straw cowboy hats we got at Coney Island, and I had them embroider "Arkansas" on mine.
Twenty years later I met Bob at the Rosarito Beach Hotel. He was almost 16 years older than me. He was originally from Arkansas and he liked to work on cars.
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