Here’s a story from my past. After college, I was dating a nouveau riche girl, and one time we were at the mall, and she went into Louis Vuitton in hopes of conspicuously consuming. I’m, of course, out of place and just wandering around looking at purses whose price tags could heat a school for the winter, bored and rapidly becoming depressed.
One of the guys working there asks if I need help with anything, and we end up striking up a conversation. Turns out we went to college in the same area, so we’re talking about that and how we’ve each ended up on the other side of the country. Maybe five minutes go by, and my girlfriend tells me she’s done, we can go. I thank the guy for the conversation and we leave.
Once outside, my girlfriend begins berating me for talking to the sales guy. “He just works there,” she tells me, “he’s not there to be talked to.”
Anyway, if the younger version of me had met Jashan, I’d probably’ve been falling over myself to date her.
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- dontwantanyonetofindthis said: As a fellow rich person who was born into it, I think I can speak to all like-minded people out there and say “fuck you Jashan, and fuck your ex-girlfriend.”
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