Chapter 14

My latest Matt had never been real big on timing, as our twin misdemeanor convictions for public lewdness in Florida will attest; it should not have come as a shock that he would choose the day my firm restructured me out of a job to announce his intention to run off with the excessively bearded hipster douchebag that prepared his pretentious “espresso experience”—which involved cloves and peanut butter or some shit; just get a fucking coffee!—every Saturday morning when we met at the vegan café across the street from his apartment. It was near me, too—didn’t take but ten minutes to walk it—but I walked past three other cafes to get to it, and we never met at any place that was closer to me than to him. He wouldn’t walk three extra blocks to have coffee with me, so he probably wasn’t gonna be much help to me during the stress and mess of a lay-off. Not, just to be clear, that he offered.