What’s going on?’ Sweating, Julia scratched the back of her neck nervously, ‘Well…You guys seem awfully close, you know? So naturally, we jus... thought you were…you know.’ Amy cocked her head to the side, ‘No, I don’t know. Enlighten me, please. For a doctor to be, you’re not being very eloquent or coherent.’ ‘Come on, Amy. You know what I’m talking about. You guys look like you’re…like you’re…’ She exhaled loudly before going straight out, ‘like you’re more than friends.’ ‘What do you mean?. Jon was the 'artist dreamer' whose liberal arts education let him despise the materialistic life he'd never be able to afford. He was a decent kisser but just couldn't last long enough to satisfy me. He'd get all worked up, (consisting of me coyly smiling at him) climb on top of me, grunt and roll off just as I was starting to get into it. As soon as he'd go to sleep (25 seconds after the *grunt*) I'd roll over and pull B.O.B. (my battery operated boyfriend) out of my nightstand and diddle. More

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