Back in the day, before I was smart, I was sweet on this guy named Tim who was really into Bruce Lee and who had a haircut not unlike a mushroom cap. Occasionally he braided his mushroom into cornrows but he was not really hard enough to sport cornrows, and by that I mean he was Asian. I can say this because I am Asian and I am hard, and even I cannot get away with cornrows. Tim was a vegan and he used to carry a baggie of Cheerios wherever he went. He also passed gas unapologetically because “holding it in is bad for the G.I.” So you can see why I was hot for daddy.

One day he calls me up and says, hey guess what? I got tickets to Toad the Wet Sprocket. And I say rad! because I am bewitched by his wily vegan pheromones. At the concert, during “All I Want,” he puts his arm around me and we sway from side to side and he sings the lyrics into my ear and I get warm and tingly even though the lyrics don’t make sense because he does not sing them correctly and we sway and sway and then he rips a fart only I don’t hear it because Toad and his Wet Sprocket are really rocking out in the extended jam version because this is their hit song. But I smell it and the stench is so unbelievable it actually melts the make-up off my face, and I ask, uh, did you just fart? And he says, yeah, isn’t this song amazing?

Now I can’t listen to Toad the Wet Sprocket without thinking about Tim. One might think that Toad the Wet Sprocket does not come up often, but for some reason they are popular at my gyno’s office and for a month there was a large poster for their tour outside my office building.