“Wait, So You Didn’t Want Me To Date Your Friend?”

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The following is an excerpt from a piece featured on The Style Con:

James Kennedy is lighting his cigarette outside of the glass doors of some awful bar in the West Village filled with aspirational investment bankers fresh out of college and their equally droll female counterparts. “I saw Wes the other day,” he starts, and I, immediately thinking he’s brought this up because he found out I went out with Wes the other weekend, preemptively interject with a self-aware coyness and thinly guised maliciousness. “Oh, I saw him, too,” I offer. There is an obvious wink in my voice that annoys even me, something you start pulling when you’re in elementary school and you realize what it means to be a girl. “Oh, yeah?” James Kennedy says, casually, inhaling his cigarette and not getting it yet. “No, I mean, we, like, went out.”

 

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