"I don't have anything to wear!" He complained, again.
That was almost Sam's favorite line - Right after "I need to get laid!".
You couldn't blame Sammy, really.
He was 20, fabulous, outrageously gay and, for some reason I could never grasp, perpetually
single. And also my best friend.
"I don't know, Sam. What about the white shirt, blue jeans and giant diamond studded belt buckle?".
"I wear that all the time!" He complained, rolling his eyes and looking back towards the mirror, sucking his stomach in
and out, curving his back, flexing his arms. This was routine - He had to look just right.
"I know" I said, smiling slightly, "That