Sandal

Her family was local, and from what I could tell fabulously wealthy. She was closer with her father, the clever parent who supported and encouraged her whims, but whenever I went over it was her mother who doted on me, feeding me endless snacks and tea. “I hear so much about you,” was the favorite line every time. Studying at the dining table, listening to the off-key singing floating from the kitchen, my sorta-girlfriend whispered: “I hate how much she says the same thing over and over again.”

“Terrible, right?” I said. “ ‘I hear so much about you.’ ”

“Ugh,” she said. “Oh yeah, fun fact: I can have two orgasms in a row.”

I wondered if it was genetic.