Boys

My cousin Travis and his boyfriend Kent are easy fodder for envy. They are both tall and stunning and stylish. They have been ripped straight from the pages of Abercrombie & Fitch ads, except they wear nicer clothes: Polo, Banana Republic, etc. They are exactly the type of boys who would typically ignore me in L.A., so there is something utterly surreal about having Travis hang on to my every word. Now, they are both high-powered corporate lawyers who will soon be living the good life in their midtown Manhattan loft.

So right now, I wonder whether I should be grateful that my father has British citizenship so I can leave behind this skewed American dream, or whether I should curse my mother for squandering her genes and marrying such an evolutionarily unsavory character.

I wonder if Travis can introduce me to his friends...