I've never been a fan of stale pretzels and greasy clam dip. The conversation was stale and greasy, too. Who were these people, anyhow? They were gray...ng pot-bellied men and their wrinkling, desperately over-mascaraed wives. Certainly, they weren't anyone I had anything in common with any more... if I ever did.From across the room, someone was waving at me. She looked vaguely familiar. By golly, it was an older version of Marianne. She showed the ravages of repeated attempts at dieting, with. Look at me, Leonard. Look very closely."My eyes MUST have been welling up. They must have. This hurt so much. Ifelt like such a monster.He huffed a breath, broke eye contact, stepped as if to move away,stopped, stepped again, in confusion. I called him by name, without himintroducing himself himself. I knew his secret. He turned to move away.Oh, Len... God... I'm so sorry I had to do this. I continued."When you lie in bed at night, touching yourself, you imagine that you arethat auburn-haired. More

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