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Sam

I told Sam where I grew up as a kid. He shared his impression of my beloved, childhood fantasy playplace of a neighborhood without thought nor care as to how it would tarnish my pristine memories.

S: What beach were you at? (pet peeve: putting “at” at the ends of questions. just dont.)

Me: Lake Lucerne in Bainbridge. It’s where I grew up.

S: Growing up there musta been a good time! (pet peeve: the word “musta.” you know, since it’s not one.)

Me: It was the best:)

S: That lake is pretty nice too! (ok, getting exhausted by all the exclamation points now. but then he dropped the bomb …) I get a feeling like there is a lot of “swinging” that goes on w/ the adults. Everyone crushes bud lights and plays corn hole. It’s a big party.

Ok, FIRST OF ALL, seeing as I was a kid there, I definitely had parents there, too, and certainly don’t want to be imagining them participating in a swinger party. Disgusting.

Secondly, Bud Lights+Cornhole=Swingers? I thought that meant frat house, or camping, or pretty much my entire college experience. On the college note, I now get how Bud Lights and cornhole can involve a healthy amount of sleeping around, but swinging? Probs not. 

Hopefully he wasn’t trying to tarnish my idyllic, utopian childhood memories of the place, with the image¬†of my parents and neighbors at a nudie block party swapping spit with each other like Pokemon cards and Pogs, playing games like cornhole and “who’s in my mouth.” To be fair, I never considered moving back to my old neighborhood much before anyway. But after a comment like that, consider my interest piqued.

Stay sexy, Lake Lucerne.

But Sam, stop it.

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