I CAN ALMOST SMELL IT. THE WATER AND SAND, THE COCONUT oil and sweat and beer breath. I see the beach in the distance: the whiteness of the shore, the candy-blue of the ocean, the candy-blue of the sky. The freedom expands inside me, along with the salty air. I cannot wait to meet them, all the girls with their wobbly flesh, the straight waists and straight legs and hair fried from home dye jobs. Despite what happened with Dolores, I haven’t given up on my passion. I’m still the universal dream boyfriend, and I’m even stronger and more refined this year. I’ve prepared. In my non-professional life, besides being Gloria’s boyfriend, I’ve also become a secret, late-night teenage-Internet-forum reader, a f*******: commenter, a Twitter subscriber who’s been following every rant a plain girl has
