I figured that if I was less picky about the guys I hooked up with—as though that was ever my problem—I’d increase my odds of finding somebody good. It is not an absurd philosophy by any means, as long as you’re not too emotional about it. I tried dating boys from school for once: a pockmarked, handsome weirdo with Clark Kent glasses from my photography seminar; a schlubby, Jewish tall guy who lived in the dorm room next to mine who blathered on about De La Soul before asking me if he could use my bathroom, then taking an extraordinary crap in the toilet that was, ostensibly, right next door to his own. And then there was Jazz Matt, Nate’s nickname for the skinny Daniel Stern lookalike from my screenwriting class who interned at Small’s Jazz Club because he loooooved Jazz. Jazz Matt’s real name was just regular Matt, but Nate and I came up with the bright idea to call him “Jazz Matt” because it rhymes with “Jazz Cat.” And few things were funnier to us than the idea of Matt “jazzing-out”
What do You think about I Don't Care About Your Band?
