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Met a girl on the highway while on tour with my band The Breaks. We were gradually making our way back north on Interstate 95 when our paths unfortunately crossed. On a previous tour I made love to Georgette, a pharmacist in Atlanta going through a divorce. When I received an e-mail from her a few months later telling me her man wan no longer her boy I booked another tour down to Atlanta and back. Philly, D.C., Chapel Hill, Atlanta, day off, Charleston, Richmond, Baltimore, home. It takes a couple months advance notice to make these things come through, though, and by the time I was in Atlanta again I was already embroiled in a retry romance in New York with an ex, making this whole trip seem pointless - for it' love and only love I'm after, reader. Let's establish this early on. If it should ever appear otherwise, understand you're wrong and take this leap with me.
OK. It wasn't always this way though. It began around the same time I'm describing now and just kept getting worse. I was trying new things out. I had forgotten how to eat, or maybe I never new. Food went on plate, food went in mouth, once it had gone in it was gone. Savory then sweet, either starving or full. The best chocolates have just the right hint of vanilla, duh, and Thai dishes come with two condiments, chili peppers and sugar. I didn't get it. I was missing something so I was trying to eat only fortified cream. My new thing was savoring: Holding in a piss all day long or drinking single malts instead of cocktails, at least that was the theory. Yes, when I saw Georgette I wanted to f*** her through the flimsy sheetrock wall of the art gallery we played in, but I was convinced if I held out, sex with my former ex would be that much more fantastic upon my return. She'd smell the p***** this week-long woody passed up and know hers was the only one good enough for it. That, and I give girls way too much credit. I believe they know things. So if I had sex with Georgette sex with my former ex upon my return would be considerably worse also.