It was a typical Saturday. I volunteered at the thrift store, and then met L1 at the Guggenheim, and then we went to the East Village for Indian food.
Oh, and Huang called. Remember Huang? He was the man who came on to me at the book reading earlier in the week. He left a message on my voicemail at home, simply stating that he was calling to say hello.
But he didn't leave a phone number.
Tony's determination: He's a closet case. Sigh.
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