The Science of Single

Dear Mens,

I’ve enjoyed the ride. It really has been fun. All the dinner, drinks, dancing, boob grabbing in inappropriate venues. I can’t tell you how much it has all meant to me. But I’ve found someone. His name is Kipoto and he takes orders from a food cart/carnival/Indian circus thing. He used to wear a fake mustache, as do all of his brothers of the Fojol clan (Dingo, Gewpee, Ababa-Du), but I think his grown-up facial hair has grown in. He’s a man, is what I mean. And he serves yummy pumpkin puree type stuff and cauliflower stuff with lots of curry so your plate is yellow. And the lassipop. Oh my. I don’t even mind that his rice is a little…woody. My palette is singing, and I feel like dancing to the strange, silly carnival music of Merlindia.

xo,

Rachel

K: Same place and time tomorrow? Til Twitter do us part.