MY FIRST COURT DATE HAPPENS ONE MONTH AFTER MY arrest and bail. My conditions are: no communication with the victim, no weapons, no leaving the city. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I was expecting more – having to wear an electronic bracelet on my ankle like a drunk celebrity, getting a camera installed in my bedroom, Net Nanny preventing me from perverting my mind with p**n.
Jason comes over every two to three days to t*****e me with stories about his pathetic dating life. A lot of it happens online. On his desktop, he has folders of links to girls he’s approached or is planning to approach: Yes Girls, Maybe Girls and No! (girls who rejected him, but whom he tells himself he didn’t want to get with in the first place).
“The crème de la crème,” he says, clicking the mouse to clos
