Backpacking Paris

Backpacking Paris

It was not insomnia that was keeping me awake. It was just that my bunk bed was shaking rather violently at intervals. It wasn’t some boogeyman or a werewolf under my bed. Rather, it wamaybe Virgin making out with a chick. In France, in the middle of FUCKIN Paris.

I wasn’t jealous. No, I wasn’t. How can you be jealous when your best friend hooks up with a cute chick in the most romantic city in the world? Nope, not even a shred of jealousy. I guess I said no too many times in the last few sentences, didn’t I?

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