Remember that one friend you had at the pool who actually insisted on waiting an entire 30 minutes after eating before getting back in to swim because he was convinced that severe cramping would set in otherwise? I can almost picture it: Portnoy's Complaint sitting nervously under a huge shade umbrella, watching the second-hand of the clock while his friends splash him, jeering.
After all, this *is* why we love him so.
After all, this *is* why we love him so.
2 comments:
I'm going to say the Rabbit series by John Updike. Though instead he might just refuse to go in the pool because he's afraid without his water-wings but all these bikini-wearing women are judging him and he doesn't have the balls to go in without some kind of inflatable reassurance.
The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock. He would just sit on the edge of the pool with his hair parted down the center and listen to the mermaids calling each to each thinking that they weren't calling to him. Actually, he's right. They're not. Go eat a peach.
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