You know when you’re on a plane, and you’re one of the early boarders, and the seat next to you is empty, and every time a really, really hot girl walks on you think “please, please, please let her seat be next to mine”? Well, this time, hers was. Though, sadly, she had the brains of toothpaste. Which, frankly, in my younger days, would not have even been cause for momentary pause (as several regrettable past exploits amply demonstrated). This time, however, when at the end of the flight, she asked if I’d maybe want to meet up for drinks at some point in San Francisco, I instead demurred, saying that I’d just be in for a night or two, and would be terribly busy the whole time.

Passing up easy hot-stupid-girl booty. The first sign of adulthood?