I dated a guy named Joel once. He was Spanish. As such, you could not say his name as “Joel”, like Billy Joel; he wanted it to be pronounced in proper Spanish as “Ho-el”. No one ever did it, so he settled for “Jo-elle”. 

When we met, he was working for a children’s charity. My mother disliked this because men who work for charities never make any money. My mother has never said anything like this in her life.

He wore a pink shirt the first time my parents ever met him and this convinced them he was gay and using me as a beard. First off, what kind of redneck shit is this? First you’re gold diggers, next you’re redneck homophobes? How embarrassing for you. Do you think I’d really be dating a guy who wasn’t sticking his cock in me at every chance he got? No. I fucked a guy I’m pretty sure was gay once. His name is Rudy, and he had cheetah print sheets, lived in Costa Mesa, and always kept his eyes closed when he boned. I should have known when he gave me an Easter basket on our second date. 

Joel now works as a photo assistant and hobnobs with cunty Hollywood types all day. He still sends me love letters.