To the dudebro in the blue car with red trim who honked at me and my partner and rolled down his window to shout “F*GGOTS!” at us on a Saturday afternoon at Harvard & E Olive:
We kept holding hands on our way home. We held hands while we were at dinner, and while we slept that night. We’ll hold hands today, tomorrow, and long after you’re gone. Stay mad about it. We’ll stay in love.
Also, your hair is ugly.
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