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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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