S T R E a M # 3 6
What’s the worst that could happen? Yeah, okay, so maybe she works for the Russian mafia. That’s unlikely, you understand. Could be she’s looking for permanent residency—or whatever they call it. As you might’ve heard, those Russian chicks, they’ll go through A LOT to get what they want. ‘Least that’s the perception. Says she’s “spontaneous,” huh? This is a good thing, yeah? You like spontaneity, no? Who doesn’t like spontaneity? The dude that doesn’t dig spontaneity, who wants him around, huh? Come on, really, what’s there to lose? I know, I get it, I hear ya. You’re troubled. You’re concerned. She’s the only one outta—what?—a hundred seventy matches to reply to your, uh, your uh, “invitation to mingle”? Dude: Eyes on the prize, right? You’re lookin’ for fun. Amirite? Make a few friends, isn’t that what? Lookin’ for a “fuck buddy.” Or two. Or three. Amirite? No? Yeah? No? C’mon. What if maybe that’s all she’s looking for, too? Just keep it light, man. Like The Chairman sings, “Nic